ANNALS OF THE POOR. 



REV. LEGH RICHMOND, A. M. 

LATE RECTOR OF TURVEY, BEDFORDSHIRE. 



A NEW EDITION, ENLARGED, WITH AN INTRODUCTORY SKETCH OF THE 
AUTHOR, 



BY THE REV. JOHN ^YRE, A. M. 

DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF RODEN, 



"Thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the Poor." 

Psalm lxviii. 10 



NEW YORK: 
J. & H. G. LANGLEY, 57 CHATHAM STREET. 

MDCCCXLI. 



TO 

WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. 

THIS LITTLE WORK 

DESIGNED TO BEAU A TESTIMONY, DRAWN FROM REAL 
FACTS AND OCCURRENCES, 

TO THE 

INFINITE VALUE OF CHRISTIAN TRUTH, 

When received in the Heart and exemplified in the Conduct, 
IS DEDICATED, 

AS A TOKEN OF GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE REGARD, WHICH 
THE AUTHOR ENTERTAINS TOWARDS A CHARACTER 
SO LONG AND JUSTLY APPROVED, 
AS 

THE FAITHFUL MONITOR OF THE RICH, THE TRIED 
FRIEND OF THE POOR, THE UNWEARIED 
SUPPORTER OF RELIGION, AND THE 
ACKNOWLEDGED BENEFACTOR 
OF MANKIND. 



CONTENTS. 



Pag-e. 

Introduction . . . . . . . . ' 7 

The Dairyman's Daughter .... 19 

The Negro Servant ...... 123 

The Young Cottager ..... 157 

The Cottage Conversation . . . ... 227 

A Visit to the Infirmary 233 



t 



Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure : 

Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
The short but simple annals of the poor. 

Gray. 



INTRODUCTION. 



It has been thought that an enlarged edition of the 
" Annals of the Poor" might not be unacceptable to 
the public, and that a brief sketch of the Author's life 
might with advantage be appended. It has fallen to my 
lot to superintend such a publication, 

The " Dairyman's Daughter" is enlarged with a num- 
ber of letters, &c, written by herself to her relatives. 
The originals of these have been preserved in the Author's 
possession. There are also added two letters addressed 
to her by the Author, I have judged it expedient not to 
interrupt the course of the narrative, and have therefore 
thrown together the additional matter in the form of an 
appendix. 

The " Young Cottager" and the " Negro Servant" are 
reprinted, without alteration, from the last edition. 

Two little pieces from Mr. Richmond's pen, inserted in 
the first volume of the Christian Guardian, now for the 
first time accompany his larger tracts. They are entitled 
"The Cottage Conversation," and * A Visit to the In- 
firmary." 



5 



INTRODUCTION. 



I have a melancholy satisfaction in sketching the life of 
my lamented father-in-law, and I willingly embrace the 
opportunity of affectionately paying a public tribute to the 
memory of one so valued and beloved. I purposely refrain 
from intruding into the province of the biographer. My 
aim is only to catch two or three more prominent features 
of his character, introducing just so much of narration as 
may serve to render my observations intelligible. 

Legh Richmond was born at Liverpool, Jan. 29, 1772. 
He was the eldest child of Dr. Henry Richmond, the de- 
scendant of an ancient and honorable family. A remark- 
able casualty befell him in his childhood, from the effects of 
which he never recovered. At a very early age, in leaping 
from a wall, he contracted an injury in his left leg, which 
issued in incurable lameness. It is somewhat singular that 
an accident nearly similar occurred to a younger brother, and 
also to his second son. Each of them, in infancy, fell from 
an open window. The former was killed, and the latter 
was ever after afflicted in the same limb with the same 
kind of lameness as his father. 

After a private preparatory education, Legh Richmond 
was admitted a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
While an under-graduate, he pursued his studies with a 
talent and a zeal which gave fair promise that the highest 
honors of his year were not beyond his reach. These 
hopes were however blighted by a severe illness, which 
was partly owing to his anxious and unremitted applica- 
tion. Precluded, by this cause, from engaging in the 
honorable contention of the senate-house, he received what 
is academically termed an aegrotat degree : commencing 
B. A. in 1794 : and with some intermissions he resided in 
the university three years longer. 



INTRODUCTION. 



9 



We are now to view Mr. Richmond in a totally different 
character. In the summer of 1797, he became, within the 
space of a very weeks, (to borrow his own words,) "aca- 
demically a master of arts, domestically a husband, pa- 
rochially a deacon." He had been originally destined to 
the law ; but having imbibed a distaste for that profession, 
his attention was subsequently directed to the church, and 
he was now admitted to the sacf^d office. Brading, a 
secluded village in the Isle of Wight, was the scene of 
his earliest pastoral labors. He was ordained to the curacy 
of this place and the little adjoining village of Yaverland ; 
and in Yaverland church he delivered his first sermon. 

These scenes will long be dear to Christian remembrance. 
Lovely in themselves, and consecrated by the pen of Legh 
Richmond, they will be viewed with no ordinary feelings : 
and he who disdains not the " simple annals of the poor," 
while he treads the sod which covers "little Jane," or 
visits the lowly cottage of the " Dairyman," will not fail 
to glorify God for those who here have slept in Jesus, and 
"though dead, yet speak." 

At the time of his ordination, Mr. Richmond saw little 
of the magnitude of that work in which he was engaging. 
As yet, he was himself but little acquainted with the 
things of God, and was therefore little qualified to become 
the spiritual instructor of others. His habits of life were 
decorous and exemplary, his pulpit compositions interest- 
ing and moral, but as yet he was little imbued with the 
spirit of vital godliness. This man, however, (may it not 
be said 3) was "a chosen vessel to the Lord." Ere many 
months elapsed, a complete revolution was effected in his 
religious sentiments. This is, under God, mainly to be 
ascribed to the perusal of Mr. Wilberforce's "Practical 



10 



INTRODUCTION. 



View of Christianity." He now, with enlightened under- 
standing and decisive zeal, set himself to " do the work 
of an evangelist." Not only was he in the pulpit, instant 
in " preaching the word," hut he was also to be found with 
his pastoral admonitions in the dwellings of his flock, and 
could descend, with sweet and winning gentleness, to 
" feed his lambs." The fruit of his labors was speedily 
apparent. " Little Jane" was the first flower which bloom- 
ed from the good seed he was sowing. 

The circumstances attendant upon his intercourse with 
the subjects of the Annals will be found narrated in the 
several tracts. I only observe in this place, that " little 
Jane" died January 30, 1799, in her fifteenth year ; that 
the conversations with the " Negro Servant" were held 
during the summer of 1803, and that the death of the 
" Dairyman's Daughter" took place May 30, 1801 : her 
age was thirty-one. 

After a residence of about seven years in the Isle of 
Wight, where his labors had been evidently and largely 
blessed, Mr. Richmond removed to London. He was here 
to take a share in the duties of the Lock chapel. The 
very first sermon he delivered from the pulpit of this place 
was, there is every reason to believe, under God's bless- 
ing, the instrumental means of effecting a saving change 
in the heart of, at least, one individual. 

Scarcely, however, was he well settled in this new 
scene, when the good providence of God removed him to 
the rectory of Turvey, Bedfordshire. He was presented 
to this living by Miss Fuller, in 1805. 

Long will the name of Richmond be venerated at Tur- 
vey ; long will the savor of his affectionate ministrations 
abide in the hearts of his mourning flock. A singular 



INTRODUCTION. 



11 



blessing still attended him. From the earliest to literally 
the latest, his preaching was visibly " in demonstration of 
the Spirit and of power." 

It was during his residence at Turvey, that most of Mr. 
Richmond's publications were undertaken. He had pre- 
viously printed two or three single sermons ;* but it was 
at Turvey that his great work, " The Fathers of the Eng- 
lish Church," was carried on. For the superintendence 
of this important undertaking he was eminently qualified. 
Accident, or I would rather say, a remarkable providence, 
had, in the first instance, introduced him, while in the Isle 
of Wight, to the writings of our earlier and greatest theo- 
logians ; and the study of them he had ever since zeal- 
ously prosecuted. To a familiar acquaintance with the 
works of these divines, Mr. Richmond united the greatest 
impartiality and judgment in forming his selections. His 
work therefore presents, in a comparatively small com- 
pass, a large proportion of the most valuable of the re- 
mains of our martyrs and confessors. It is not perhaps 
too much to say, that it has been mainly instrumental in 
awakening to the reformers that attention and interest 
with which they are now increasingly regarded. 

It was during his residence at Turvey also that Mr. 
Richmond drew up the narratives which are contained in 
the present volume. They were originally (in substance) 
inserted in the earlier numbers of the Christian Guardian. 
Having here attracted considerable attention, they were 
then published in the form of separate tracts, and after- 

* These were, a Fast-day Sermon, and one On the Close of the Year, 
preached at Brading ; and a Sermon on Cruelty to the Brute Creation, deliv- 
ered at Bath. 



12 



INTRODUCTION. 



ward, with considerable augmentations, in the first edition 
of this volume. 

It may appear perhaps unnecessary to pronounce an 
opinion on productions which have been circulated by 
millions, and translated into twenty languages ; and which, 
in a multitude of well-authenticated instances, have been, 
by the blessing of God, signally effective of good. I can- 
not, however, forbear to say, that in Legh Richmond's 
writings, more than in those of perhaps any other author, 
you behold the character of the man. His beautiful sim- 
plicity, his lively imagination, his tenderness of feeling, 
his devoted piety, were the characteristics of the man 
wmich enshrined him in the affections of all who knew 
him. And who can read a page of his Annals, and not re- 
cognise in those interesting narratives, the same simple 
plainness, the same glowing fancy, the same touching pa- 
thos, the same ardent piety ? In sketching his villagers, 
he has unconsciously delineated himself. He admits us to 
his retirement and meditations, shows us his hopes and 
fears, and presents us with all the secret workings of his 
soul. We admire the gifted minister of God, who, in 
the deep humility of his spirit, disdained not to listen to 
the voice of admonition, though it reached him from the 
lowly cottage ; we cannot withhold our affection from 
the man. 

If I were called on to say which of the narratives I pre- 
fer, I should, most probably, be inclined to fix on that of 
the " Young Cottager." There is something, in my judg- 
ment, irresistibly engaging in the character and history of 
that simple girl. I can venerate the high and exalted piety 
of the "Dairyman's Daughter," who, with a masculine 
strength of understanding, had ever her word of counsel 



INTRODUCTION. 



13 



even for the minister: but I hie the little, backward, 
neglected, retiring child, who starts forth at once in all the 
moral beauty of Christian attainment. There is something 
too in the condition of Jane, which seems especially to call 
for our sympathy. The Dairyman's Daughter was con- 
stantly surrounned by a circle of affectionate relatives, 
who regarded her with reverence and love ; while Jane's 
religion was, at best, little appreciated, often despised and 
ridiculed by her family, and her last hours were disturbed 
by sounds of blasphemy, proceeding from a parent. Many 
of the incidents also of this tale might be appealed to as 
conferring upon it a peculiar interest. The scene, for ex- 
ample, where Mr. Richmond, on his first visit to her, while 
speaking of the good news of the Gospel, inquires, 44 Who 
brings this good news?" and is answered, 44 Sir, you brought 
it to me I know not who can read unmoved. Her part- 
ing benediction too — 44 God bless and reward you !" — when 
with an unexpected exertion she threw her arms around 
him and expired — is inexpressibly affecting. 

I close what I have to say on the subject of these tracts, 
by adding, that a few years ago, two grave-stones were 
erected in the churchyards of Arreton and Brading respec- 
tively, to the memory of the 44 Dairyman's Daughter," and 
the 44 Young Cottager." 

On the former are inscribed the following lines, the 
composition of a lady. 

•* Stranger ! if e'er by chance or feeling led, 
Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread, 
Turn from the contemplation of the sod, 
And think on her whose spirit rests with God 
Lowly her lot on earth,— but He who bore 
Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor, 

2 



14 



INTRODUCTION. 



Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove, 
The choicest treasures of his boundless love : 
Faith, that dispell'd affliction's darkest gloom; 
Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb ; 
Peace, that not Hell's dark legion could destroy ; 
And love, that fill'd the soul with heavenly joy. 
Death of its sting disarm'd, she knew no fear, 
But tasted heaven, e'en while she linger'd here. 
Oh ! happy saint ! — may we like thee be blest ; 
In life be faithful, and in death find rest!" 

The following epitaph is from Mr. Richmond's pen. 

» Te who delight the power of God to trace, 
And mark with joy each monument of grace, 
Tread lightly o'er this grave, as you explore 
1 The short and simple annals of the poor.' 

' A child reposes underneath this sod, 
A child to memory dear, and dear to God : 
Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear, 
Jane, ' the Young Cottager,' lies buried here." 

During his residence at Turvey, Mr. Richmond became 
extendedly known to the public as the cordial friend, and 
real advocate of the different religious societies, which 
have within the last thirty years grown up among us. His 
persuasive and pathetic eloquence in the pulpit or on the 
platform, when awaking Christian sympathy in behalf of 
the idolatrous Gentile, or the unbelieving Jew, will not be 
readily forgotten by the multitudes who have, so often, 
delighted and instructed, hung upon his lips. I believe 
his earliest appearance in this character, was on the ninth 
anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, before 
whom he was appointed, in 1809, to preach their annual 
sermon. This sermon may be appealed to as a fair and 
characteristic specimen of his powers in the pulpit ; though 



INTRODUCTION. 



15 



I must be allowed to say, that his flowing and harmo- 
nious language, his graceful delivery, and sweet expres- 
sion of features, beaming with love to God and good-will 
to men, imparted a charm which the mere reader of a 
printed sermon can by no means duly appreciate. 

His preaching, for a long series of years, was altogether 
extemporaneous. His ready utterance, his exuberant 
fancy, his aptness of illustration, his deep knowledge of 
divine things, rendered his sermons always interesting and 
useful. Perhaps he did not, upon common occasions, 
allow himself sufficient previous study ; but if this were 
his fault, he acted upon principle. "Why," he would 
often say, "why need I labor, when our simple villagers 
are far more usefully instructed in my plain, easy, familiar 
manner 1 The only result would be, that I should ad- 
dress them in a style beyond their comprehension." 

His appearance on the platform of a public meeting was 
universally hailed with pleasure. His ready adaptation of 
passing incidents, the suavity of his addresses, sometimes 
solemn, sometimes even jocose, interspersed with interest- 
ing narratives, which he could so well relate, deservedly 
placed him high in public esteem. 

I ought, perhaps, to state, that in 1814, Mr. Richmond 
was appointed chaplain to the late Duke of Kent, by whom 
he was honored with a share of his Royal Highness's 
friendship. In 1817, Mr. R. was presented by the late 
Emperor Alexander of Russia, with a splendid ring, as a 
testimony of the approbation with which his Imperial Ma- 
jesty viewed the narratives in this volume. 

Many peaceful years were passed at Turvey. Happy 
in the bosom of his family, no man more excelled as a pat- 
tern of domestic virtues, than Legh Richmond. 



16 



INTRODUCTION. 



At length, in 1825, Mr. R.'s domestic happiness sus- 
tained a severe blow by the death of his second son, a 
youth in his nineteenth year. For this beloved child, he 
had fostered many a fond hope and anxious expectation, 
and beheld with all a father's joy, "non flosculos — sed 
jam certos atque deformatos fructus.' 5 This fair flower 
was withered by consumption, and the bereaved parent, 
though he submitted as a Christian, yet sorrowed as a 
man. In a few short months the stroke was repeated. 
Intelligence arrived that his eldest son, who had been ab- 
sent many years, had died on his voyage from India to 
England. 

These afflictive dispensations had a marked and peculiar 
effect upon Legh Richmond. He who used to be the life 
of the domestic and social circle, would now be silent and 
abstracted : yet it was not the morbid gloom of a repining 
heart, it was rather the solemnity of conviction that he 
should ere long rejoin his lamented children. His bodily 
health, too, seemed in some measure decaying. His mul- 
titude of pastoral duties were too heavy for his strength. 
For the last twelve months of his life he was troubled with 
an irritating cough, which seemed to indicate an affection 
of the lungs. At length, (March, 1827,) he contracted a 
violent cold, which issued in pleurisy ; from which, how- 
ever, he shortly appeared to be recovering. During all 
this time, when certainly no immediate danger was ap- 
prehended, he was peacefully and quietly setting his house 
in order. To his family he knew the idea of separation 
would be agony: he therefore scarcely hinted to them 
what he felt was nigh at hand : but to a clerical friend, 
he, in striking words, professed that simple reliance on 
the atonement of Christ, which alone can cheer and sup- 



INTRODUCTION. 



17 



port the soul in the hour of dissolution. It soon became 
evident to those around him, that the flood of life was 
ebbing calmly, yet fast: and at last, (May 8,) without 
pain or struggle, the ready spirit sweetly and softly pass- 
ed from her tenement — and Legh Richmond slept in 
Jesus. 

Farewell, dear friend and father ! Very pleasant were 
the hours and years of our communion ; but they are 
passed away, and the savor only, sad yet sweet, remains. 
''Farewell, dear friend, till the morning of an eternal day 
renew our personal intercourse !" May I meet thee in a 
better world. 

I cannot but connect the closing hours of my beloved 
friend, with that affecting prayer which he has breathed 
in the Young Cottager, (Part IV.) He had been describ- 
ing the useful course and peaceful termination of a little 
rivulet, which glides through a very lovely glen, by which 
he was meditating. " May my course be like unto thine, 
thou little rivulet ! Though short be my span of life, yet 
may I be useful to my fellow-sinners as I travel onward ! 
Let me be a dispenser of spiritual support and health to 
many ! Like this stream, may I prove the poor man's 
friend by the way, and water the souls that thirst for the 
river of life, wherever I meet them ! And if it pleases 
thee, O my God, let me in my latter end be like this 
brook ! It calmly, though not quite silently, ilovvs through 
this scene of peace and loveliness, just before it enters 
the sea. Let me thus gently close my days likewise ; 
and may I not unusefully tell to others of the goodness 
and mercy of my Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of 
eternity." 

That prayer was surely answered. He did tell to men, 
2* 



18 



INTRODUCTION. 



with abundant blessing, of the goodness and mercy of his 
Saviour : he did thus gently close his days. 

Soldier of Christ, well done I 

Praise be thy new employ ; 
And while eternal ages run, 

Rest in thy Saviour's joy. : 

J. A. 

Islington. 
Feb. 21st, 1828. 



: . THE 

DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER, 



PART I. 

It is a delightful employment to discover and trace the 
operations of divine grace, as they are manifested in the 
dispositions and lives of God's real children. It is pecu- 
liarly gratifying to observe how frequently, among the 
poorer classes of mankind, the sunshine of mercy beams 
upon the heart, and bears witness to the image of Christ 
which the Spirit of God has impressed thereupon. Among 
Euch, the sincerity and simplicity of the Christian charac- 
ter appear unencumbered by those obstacles to spirituality 
of mind and conversation, which too often prove a great 
hindrance to those who live in the higher ranks. Many 
are the difficulties which riches, worldly consequence, high 
connections, and the luxuriant refinements of polished so* 
ciety, throw in the way of religious profession, Happy 
indeed it is (and some such happy instances I know) where 
grace has so strikingly supported its conflict with natural 
pride, self-importance, the allurements of luxury, ease, 
and worldly opinion, that the noble and mighty appear 



20 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



adorned with genuine poverty of spirit, self-denial, humble- 
mindedness, and deep spirituality of heart. 

But, in general, if we want to see religion in its most 
simple and pure character, we must look for it among the 
poor of this world, who are rich in faith. How often is 
the poor man's cottage the palace of God ! Many can 
truly declare, that they have there learned the most valu- 
able lessons of faith and hope, and there witnessed the 
most striking demonstrations of the wisdom, power, and 
goodness of God. 

The character which the present narrative is designed 
to introduce to the notice of my readers, is given from real 
life and circumstance. I first became acquainted with her 
by receiving the following letter, which I transcribe from 
the original now before me. 

"Rev. Sir, 

" I take the liberty to write to you. Pray ex- 
cuse me, for I have never spoken to you. But I once 

heard you when you preached at church. I believe 

you are a faithful preacher to warn sinners to flee from 
the wrath that will be revealed against all those that live 
in sin, and die impenitent. Pray go on in the strength of 
the Lord. And may he bless you, and crown your labor 
of love with success, and give you souls for your hire ! 

" The Lord has promised to be with those whom he calls 
and sends forth to preach his word to the end of time ; for 
without him we can do nothing. I was much rejoiced to 
hear of those marks of love and affection to that poor sol- 
dier of the S. D. militia. Surely the love of Christ sent 
you to that poor man : may that love ever dwell richly in 
you by faith ! may it constrain you to seek the wandering 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



21 



souls of men with the fervent desire to spend and be spent 
for his glory ! May the unction of the Holy Spirit attend 
the word spoken by you with power, and convey deep con- 
viction to the hearts of your hearers ! May many of them 
experience the divine change of being made new creatures 
in Christ I 

" Sir, be fervent in prayer with God for the conversion 
of sinners. His power is great, and who can withstand 
it ? He has promised to answer the prayer of faith, that 
is put up in his Son's name. 4 Ask what ye will, it shall 
be granted you.' How this should strengthen our faith 
when we are taught by the word and the Spirit how to 
pray ! O that sweet inspiring hope ; how it lifts up the 
fainting spirits, when we look over the precious promises 
of God ! What a mercy if we know Christ and the power 
of his resurrection in our own hearts ! Through faith in 
Christ we rejoice in hope, and look up in expectation of that 
time drawing near, when all shall know and fear the Lord, 
and when a nation shall be born in a day. 

"What a happy time, when Christ's kingdom shall 
come ! then shall 1 his will be done on earth, as it is in 
heaven.' Men shall be daily fed with the manna of his 
love, and delight themselves in the Lord all the day long. 
Then what a paradise below will they enjoy ! How it 
animates and enlivens my soul with vigor to pursue the 
ways of God, that I may even now bear some humble part 
in giving glory to God and the Lamb ! 

" Sir, I began to write this on Sunday, being detained 
from attending on public worship. My dear and only sis- 
ter, living as a servant with Mrs. , was so ill, that I 

came here to attend in her place and on her. But now 
she is no more. 



22 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" I was going to entreat you to write to her in answer 
to this ; she being convinced of the evil of her past life, 
and that she had not walked in the ways of God, nor 
sought to please him. But she earnestly desired to do so. 
This makes me have a comfortable hope that she is gone 
to glory, and that she is now joining in sweet concert with 
the angelic host in heaven to sing the wonders of redeem- 
ing love. I hope I may now write, 4 Blessed are the dead 
that die in the Lord.' 

" She expressed a desire to receive the Lord's Supper, 
and commemorate his precious death and sufferings. I 
told her, as well as I was able, what it was to receive 
Christ into her heart ; but as her weakness of body in- 
creased, she did not mention it again. She seemed quite 
resigned before she died. I do hope she is gone from a 
world of death and sin to be with God for ever, 
> " Sir, I hope you will not be offended with me, a poor 
ignorant person, to take such a liberty as to write to you. 
But I trust, as you are called to instruct sinners in the 
ways of God, you will bear with me, and be so kind to 
answer this ill- wrote letter, and give me some instructions. 
It is my heart's desire to have the mind that was in Christ, 
that when I awake up in his likeness then I may be satisfied. 

" My sister expressed a wish that you might bury her. 
The minister of our parish, whither she will be carried, can- 
not come. She will lie at •. She died on Tuesday 

morning, and will be buried on Friday or Saturday (which- 
ever is most convenient to you) at three o'clock in the 
afternoon. Please to send an answer by the bearer, to let 
me know whether you can comply with this request. 

" From your unworthy servant, 

"Elizabeth W %" 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



23 



I was much struck with the simple and earnest strain 
of devotion which this letter breathed. It was but indif- 
ferently written and spelt. But this the rather tended to 
endear the hitherto unknown writer, as it seemed charac- 
teristic of the union of humbleness of station with emi- 
nence of piety. I felt quite thankful that 1 was favored 
with a correspondent of this description ; the more so, as 
such characters were at that time very rare in the neigh- 
borhood. I have often wished that epistolary intercourse 
of this kind was more encouraged and practised among 
us. I have the greatest reason to speak well of its effects 
both on myself and others. Communication by letter as 
w r ell as by conversation with the pious poor, has often been 
the instrument of animating and reviving my own heart 
in the midst of duty, and of giving me the most profitable 
information for the general conduct of the ministerial office. 

As soon as the letter was read, I inquired who was the 
bearer of it. 

" He is waiting at the outside of the gate, sir," was 
the reply. 

I went out to speak to him, and saw a venerable old 
man, whose long hoary hair and deeply- wrinkled counte- 
nance commanded more than common respect. He was 
resting his arm upon the gate, and tears were streaming 
down his cheeks. On my approach he made a low bow, 
and said, 

" Sir, I have brought you a letter from my daughter ; 
but I fear you will think us very bold in asking you to take 
so much trouble." 

"By no means," I replied; "I shall be truly glad to 
oblige you and any of your family in this matter, pro- 
vided it be quite agreeable to the minister of your parish." 



24 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



"Sir, he told me yesterday, that he shou]d be very glad 
if I could procure some gentleman to come and bury my 
poor child for him, as he lives five miles off, and has par- 
ticular business on that day : so when I told my daughter, 
she asked me to come to you, sir, and bring that letter, 
which would explain the matter. " 

I desired him to come into the house, and then said, 

" What is your occupation V 

" Sir, I have lived most of my days in a little cottage 

at , six miles from here. I have rented a few acres 

of ground, and kept some cows, which, in addition to my 
day-labor, has been the means of supporting and bringing 
up my family." 

" What family have you 1" 

" A wife, now getting very aged and helpless, two 
eons, and one daughter ; for my other poor dear child is 
just departed out of this wicked world." 

" I hope for a better." 

" I hope so too : poor thing, she did not use to take to 
such good ways as her sister ; but I do believe that her 
sister's manner of talking with her before she died was 
the means of saving her soul. What a mercy it is to have 
such a child as mine is ! I never thought about my own 
soul seriously till she, poor girl, begged me to flee from 
the wrath to come." 

" How old are you ]" 

" Near seventy, and my wife is older ; we are getting 
old and almost past our labor, but our daughter has left a 
good place, where she lived in service, on purpose to 
come home and take care of us and our little dairy. And 
a dear, dutiful, affectionate girl she is." 

" Was she always so V 9 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



25 



M No, sir ; when she was very young, she was all for 
the world, and pleasure, and dress, and company. Indeed, 
we were all very ignorant, and thought if we took care 
for this life, and wronged nobody, we should be sure to go 
to heaven at last. My daughters were both wilful, and, 
like ourselves, strangers to the ways of God and the word 
of his grace. But the eldest of them went out to service, 

and some years ago, she heard a sermon preached at 

church, by a gentleman that was going to , as chap- 
lain to the colony, and from that time she seemed quite 
another creature. She began to read the Bible, and be- 
came sober and steady. The first time she returned 
home afterward to see us, she brought us a guinea 
which she had saved from her wages, and said, as we 
were getting old, she was sure we should want help ; 
adding, that she did not wish to spend it in fine clothes, 
as she used to do, only to feed pride and vanity. She 
said she would rather show gratitude to her dear fa- 
ther and mother, because Christ had shown such mercy 
to her. 

" We wondered to hear her talk, and took great delight 
in her company; for her temper and behavior were so 
humble and kind, she seemed so desirous to do us good 
both in soul and body, and was so different from what we 
had ever seen her before, that, careless and ignorant as 
we had been, we began to think there must be something 
real in religion, or it never could alter a person so much in 
a little time. 

" Her youngest sister, poor soul ! used to laugh and 
ridicule her at that time, and said her head was turned 
with her new ways. 'No, sister,' she would say, 'not my 
head, but I hope my heart is turned from the love of sin 

3 



26 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



to the love of God. I wish you may one day see, as I do, 
the danger and vanity of your present condition.' 

" Her poor sister would reply, 4 1 do not want to hear 
any of your preaching ; I am no worse than other people, 
and that is enough for me.' — 'Well, sister,' Elizabeth 
would say, 6 if you will not hear me, you cannot hinder me 
from praying for you, which I do with all my heart.' 

"And now, sir, I believe those prayers are answered. 
For when her sister was taken ill, Elizabeth went to 

Mrs. 's to wait in her place, and take care of her. 

She said a great deal to her about her soul, and the poor 
girl began to be so deeply affected, and sensible of her 
past sin, and so thankful for her sister's kind behavior, 
that it gave her great hopes indeed for her sake. When 
my wife and I went to see her as she lay sick, she told us 
how grieved and ashamed she was of her past life ; but 
said, she had a hope through grace that her dear sister's 
Saviour would be her Saviour too ; for she saw her own 
sinfulness, felt her own helplessness, and only wished to 
cast herself upon Christ as her hope and salvation. 

" And now, sir, she is gone, and I hope and think her 
sister's prayers for her conversion to God have been 
answered. The Lord grant the same for her poor father 
and mother's sake likewise !" 

This conversation was a very pleasing commentary 
upon the letter which I had received, and made me anx- 
ious both to comply with the request, and to become 
acquainted with the writer. I promised the good Dairy- 
man to attend on the Friday at the appointed hour ; and 
after some more conversation respecting his own state of 
mind under the present trial, he went away. 

He was a reverend old man; his furrowed cheeks, 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



27 



white locks, weeping eyes, bent shoulders, and feeble gait, 
were characteristic of the aged pilgrim. As he slowly walk- 
ed onward, supported by a stick, which seemed to have 
been the companion of many a long year, a train of reflec- 
tions occurred, which I retrace with pleasure and emotion. 

At the appointed hour I arrived at the church ; and 
after a little while, was summoned to the churchyard gate 
to meet the funeral procession. The aged parents, the 
elder brother, and the sister, with other relatives, formed 
an affecting group ! I was struck with the humble, pious, 
and pleasing countenance of the young woman from whom 
I had received the letter. It bore the marks of great 
seriousness without affectation, and of much serenity 
mingled with a glow of devotion. 

A circumstance occurred during the reading of the 
Burial Service, which I think it right to mention, as one 
among many testimonies of the solemn and impressive 
tendency of our truly evangelical Liturgy. 

A man of the village, who had hitherto been of a very 
careless and even profligate character, went into the 
church through mere curiosity, and with no better purpose 
than that of vacantly gazing at the ceremony. He came 
likewise to the grave, and during the reading of those 
prayers which are appointed for that part of the service, 
his mind received a deep, serious conviction of his sin and 
spiritual danger. It was an impression that never wore 
off, but gradually ripened into the most satisfactory evi- 
dence of an entire change, of which I had many and 
long-continued proofs. He always referred to the Burial 
Service, and to some particular sentences of it, as the 
clearly ascertained instrument of bringing him, through 
grace, to the knowledge of the truth. 



26 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



The day was therefore one to be remembered. Re- 
membered let it be by those who love to hear " the short 
and simple annals of the poor." 

Was there not a manifest and happy connection between 
the circumstances that providentially brought the serious 
and the careless to the same grave on that day together I 
How much do they lose who neglect to trace the leadings 
of God in providence, as links in the chain of his eternal 
purpose of redemption and grace ! 

s; While Infidels may scoff, let us adore V T 

After the service was concluded, I had a short conver- 
sation with the good old couple and their daughter. She 
told me that she intended to remain a week or two at the 
gentleman's house where her sister died, till another 
servant should arrive and take her sister's place. 

" I shall be truly obliged," said she, " by an opportunity 
of conversing with you, either there or at my father's, 
when I return home, which will be in the course of a 
fortnight at the farthest. I shall be glad to talk to you 
about my sister, whom you have just buried." 

Her aspect and address were highly interesting. I 
promised to see her very soon ; and then returned home, 
quietly reflecting on the circumstances of the funeral at 
which I had been engaged. I blessed the God of the 
poor, and prayed that the poor might become rich in faith, 
and the rich be made poor in spirit. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



29 



PART II. 

A sweet solemnity often possesses the mind, whilst 
retracing past intercourse with departed friends. How 
much is this increased, when they were such as lived and 
died in the Lord ! The remembrance of former scenes 
and conversations with those who, we believe, are now en- 
joying the uninterrupted happiness of a better world, fills 
the heart with pleasing sadness, and animates the soul 
with the hopeful anticipation of a day when the glory of 
the Lord shall be revealed in the assembling of all his 
children together, never more to be separated. Whether 
they were rich or poor, while on earth, is a matter of 
trifling consequence : the valuable part of their charac- 
ter is, that they are kings and priests unto God, and this 
is their true nobility. In the number of now departed be- 
lievers, with whom I once loved to converse on the grace 
and glory of the kingdom of God, was the Dairyman's 
Daughter. 

About a week after the funeral, I went to visit the 

family at , in whose service the youngest sister had 

lived and died, and where Elizabeth was requested to re- 
main for a short time in her stead. 

The house was a large and venerable mansion. It stood 
in a beautiful valley at the foot of a high hill. It was em- 
bowered in fine woods, which were interspersed in every 
direction with rising, falling, and swelling grounds. The 
manor-house had evidently descended through a long line 
of ancestry, from a distant period of time. The Gothic 
character of its original architecture was still preserved 

3* 



30 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



in the latticed windows, adorned with carved divisions and 
pillars of stonework. Several pointed terminations also, 
in the construction of the roof, according to the custom of 
our forefathers, fully corresponded with the general fea- 
tures of the building. 

One end of the house was entirely clothed with the thick 
foliage of an immense ivy, which climbed beyond cus- 
tomary limits, and embraced a lofty chimney up to its very 
summit. Such a tree seemed congenial to the walls that 
supported it, and conspired with the antique fashion of the 
place to carry imagination back to the days of our ances- 
tors. 

As I approached, I was led to reflect on the lapse of 
ages, and the successive generations of men, each in their 
turn occupying lands, houses, and domains ; each in their 
turn also disappearing, and leaving their inheritance to be 
enjoyed by others. David once observed the same, and 
cried out, " Behold, thou hast made my "days as a hand- 
breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee : verily, 
every man at his best estate is altogether vanity. Surely 
every man walketh in a vain show : surely they are dis- 
quieted in vain : he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who 
shall gather them." 

Happy would it be for the rich, if they more frequently 
meditated on the uncertainty of all their possessions, and 
the frail nature of every earthly tenure. 44 Their inward 
thought is, that their houses shall continue for ever, and 
their dwelling-places to all generations ; they call their lands 
after their own names. Nevertheless, man, being in honor, 
abideth not ; he is like the beasts that perish. This their 
way is their folly : yet their posterity approve their say- 
ings. Like sheep, they are laid in the grave : death shall 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



31 



feed on them : and their beauty shall consume in the grave, 
from their dwelling." 

As I advanced to the mansion, a pleasing kind of gloom 
overspread the front : it was occasioned by the shade of 
trees, and gave a characteristic effect to the ancient fabric. 
I instantly recollected that death had very recently visited 
the house, and that one of its present inhabitants was an 
affectionate mourner for a departed sister. 

There is a solemnity in the thought of a recent death, 
which will associate itself with the very walls from whence 
we are conscious that a soul has just taken its flight to 
eternity. 

After passing some time in conversation with the supe- 
riors of the family, in the course of which I was much 
gratified by hearing of the unremitted attention which the 
elder sister had paid to the younger, during the illness 
of the latter ; I received likewise other testimonies of the 
excellency of her general character and conduct in the 
house : I then took leave, requesting permission to see 
her, agreeably to the promise I had made at the funeral, 
not many days before. 

I was shown into a parlor, where I found her alone. 
She was in deep mourning. She had a calmness and 
serenity in her countenance, which exceedingly struck 
me, and impressed some idea of those attainments which 
a further acquaintance with her afterward so much in- 
creased. 

She spoKe of her sister. I had the satisfaction of find- 
ing that she had given very hopeful proofs of a change of 
heart, before she died. The prayers and earnest exhorta- 
tions of Elizabeth had been blessed to a happy effect. She 
described what had passed with such a mixture of sisterly 



b2 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



affection, and pious dependence on the mercy of God to 
sinners, as convinced me that her own heart was under 
the influence of "pure and undefiled religion." 

She requested leave occasionally to correspond with me 
on serious subjects, stating that she needed much instruc- 
tion. She hoped I would pardon the liberty which she 
had taken by introducing herself to my notice. She ex- 
pressed a trust that the Lord would overrule both the 
death of her sister, and the personal acquaintance with 
me that resulted from it, to a present and future good, as 
it respected herself and also her parents, with whom she 
statedly lived, and to whom she expected to return in a 
few days. 

Finding that she was wanted in some household duty, 1 
did not remain long with her ; but left her with an assu- 
rance that I proposed to visit her parents very shortly. 

" Sir," said she, w I take it very kind that you have con- 
descended to leave the company of the rich and converse 
with the poor. I wish I could have said more to you re- 
specting my own state of mind. Perhaps I shall be bet- 
ter able another time. When you next visit me, instead 
of finding me in these noble walls, you will see me in a 
poor cottage. But I am happiest when there. Once 
more, sir, I thank you for your past kindness to me and 
mine, and may God in many ways bless you for it !" 

I quitted the house with no small degree of satisfaction, 
in consequence of the new acquaintance which I had 
formed. I discovered traces of a cultivated, as well as 
a spiritual mind. I felt that religious intercourse with 
those of low estate may be rendered eminently useful to 
others, whose outward station and advantages are far above 
their own. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



S3 



How often does it appear, that " God hath chosen the 
weak things of the world to confound the things which 
are mighty : and base things of the world, and things 
which are despised, hath God chosen, and things which 
are not, to bring to nought things that are ; that no flesh 
should glory in his presence." 

It was not unfrequently my custom, when my mind was 
filled with any interesting subject for meditation, to seek 
some spot where the beauties of natural prospect might 
help to form pleasing and useful associations. I therefore 
ascended gradually to the very summit of the hill adjoin- 
ing the mansion where my visit had just been made. Here 
was placed an elevated sea-mark : it was in the form of a 
triangular pyramid, and built of stone. I sat down on the 
ground near it, and looked at the surrounding prospect, 
which was distinguished for beauty and magnificence. It 
was a lofty station, which commanded a complete circle 
of interesting objects to engage the spectator's attention. 

Southward the view was terminated by a long range of 
hills, at about six miles distance. They met, to the west- 
ward, another chain of hills, of which the one whereon I 
sat formed a link, and the whole together nearly encom- 
passed a rich and fruitful valley, filled with cornfields and 
pastures. Through this vale winded a small river for 
many miles : much cattle were feeding on its banks. Here 
and there lesser eminences arose in the valley ; some 
covered with wood, others with corn or grass, and a few 
with heath or fern. One of these little hills was distin- 
guished by a parish church at the top, presenting a striking 
feature in the landscape. Another of these elevations, 
situated in the centre of the valley, was adorned with a 
venerable holly-tree, which has grown there for ages. Its 



34 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



singular height and wide-spreading dimensions not only 
render it an object of curiosity to the traveller, but of 
daily usefulness to the pilot, as a mark visible from the 
sea, whereby to direct his vessel safe into harbor. Vil- 
lages, churches, country-seats, farm-houses, and cottages, 
were scattered over every part of the southern valley. In 
this direction also, at the foot of the hill where I was 
stationed, appeared the ancient mansion, which I had just 
quitted, embellished with its woods, groves, and gardens. 

Southeastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by 
the horizon. The sun shone, and gilded the waves with 
a glittering light that sparkled in the most brilliant man- 
ner. More to the east, in continuation of that line of 
hills where I was placed, rose two downs, one beyond the 
other ; both covered with sheep, and the sea just visible 
over the furthest of them, as a terminating boundary. In 
this point ships were seen, some sailing, others at anchor. 
Here the little river, which watered the southern valley, 
finished its course, and ran through meadows into the sea, 
in an eastward direction. 

On the north the sea appeared like a noble river, vary- 
ing from three to seven miles in breadth, between the 
banks of the opposite coast and those of the island which 
I inhabited. Immediately underneath me was a fine 
woody district of country, diversified by many pleasing 
objects. Distant towns were visible on the opposite 
shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station 
which this northern channel afforded them. The eye 
roamed with delight over an expanse of near and remote 
beauties, which alternately caught the observation, and 
which harmonized together, and produced a scene of pe- 
culiar interest. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



35 



Westward the hills followed each other, forming several 
intermediate and partial valleys, in a kind of undulations, 
like the waves of the sea ; and bending to the south, 
completed the boundary of the larger valley before de- 
scribed, to the southward of the hill on which I sat. In 
many instances the hills were cultivated with corn to 
their very summits, and seemed to defy the inclemency of 
weather, which, at these heights, usually renders the 
ground incapable of bringing forth and ripening the crops 
of grain. One hill alone, the highest in elevation, and 
above ten miles to the southwestward, was enveloped in 
a cloud, which just permitted a dim and hazy sight of a 
signal-post, a lighthouse, and an ancient chantry, built 
on its summit. 

Amidst these numerous specimens of delightful scenery 
I found a mount for contemplation, and here I indulged it. 

"How much of the natural beauties of Paradise still 
remain in the world, although its spiritual character has 
been so awfully defaced by sin ! But when divine grace 
renews the heart of the fallen sinner, Paradise is regained, 
and much of its beauty restored to the soul. As this 
prospect is compounded of hill and dale, land and sea, 
woods and plains, all sweetly blended together and re- 
lieving each other in the landscape ; so do the gracious 
dispositions wrought in the soul, produce a beauty and 
harmony of scene to which it was before a stranger." 

I looked towards the village in the plain below, where 
the Dairyman's younger daughter was buried. I retraced 
the simple solemnities of the funeral. I connected the 
principles and conduct of her sister with the present pro- 
bably happy state of her soul in the world of spirits, and 
was greatly impressed with a sense of the importance of 



36 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



family influence as a mean of grace, " That young wo- 
man," I thought, "has been the conductor of not only a 
sister, but perhaps a father and mother also, to the true 
knowledge of God, and may, by divine blessing, become 
so to others. It is a glorious occupation to win souls to 
Christ, and guide them out of Egyptian bondage through 
the wilderness into the promised Canaan. Happy are the 
families w T ho are walking hand in hand together, as pil- 
grims, towards the heavenly country. May the number 
of such be daily increased I" 

Casting my eye over the numerous dwellings in the 
vales on my right and left, I could not help thinking, 
" How many of their inhabitants are ignorant of the way3 
of God, and strangers to his grace ! May this thought 
stimulate to activity and diligence in the cause of immor- 
tal souls ! They are precious in God's sight — they ought 
to be so in ours." 

Some pointed and affecting observations to that effect 
recurred to my mind as having been made by the young 
person with whom I had been just conversing. Her 
mind appeared to be much impressed with the duty of 
speaking and acting for God "while it is day ;" conscious 
that the " night cometh, when no man can work." Her 
laudable anxiety on this head was often testified to me 
afterward, both by letter and conversation. What she 
felt herself, in respect to endeavors to do good, she hap- 
pily communicated to others with whom she corresponded 
or conversed. 

Time would not permit my continuing so long in the 
enjoyment of these meditations on this lovely mount of 
observation, as my heart desired. On my return home I 
wrote a few lines to the Dairyman's daughter, chiefly 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



37 



dictated by the train of thought which had occupied my 
mind while I sat on the hill. 

On the next Sunday evening I received her reply, of 
which the following is a transcript : 

" Sunday. 

Rev. Sir, 

"I am this day deprived of an opportunity of attending 
the house of God, to worship him. But, glory be to his 
name ! he is not confined to time nor place. I feel him 
present with me where I am, and his presence makes my 
Paradise ; for where he is, is heaven, I pray God that a 
double portion of his grace and Holy Spirit may rest upon 
you this day ; that his blessing may attend all your faith- 
ful labors ; and that you may find the truth of his Word, 
assuring us, that wherever we assemble together in his 
name, there he is in the midst to bless every waiting soul. 

" How precious are all his promises ! We ought never 
to doubt the truth of his Word. For he will never deceive 
us if we go on in faith, always expecting to receive what 
his goodness waits to give. Dear sir, I have felt it very 
consoling to read your kind letter to-day. I feel thankful 
to God for ministers in our church who love and fear his 
name : there it is where the people in general look for 
salvation ; and there may they ever find it, for Jesu's 
sake ! May his Word, spoken by you his chosen vessel 
of grace, be made spirit and life to their dead souls ! 
May it come from you as an instrument in the hands of 
God, as sharp arrows from a strong archer, and strike a 
death-blow to all their sins ! How I long to see the ar- 
rows of conviction fasten on the minds of those that are 
hearers of the Word and not doers ! O sir ! be ambitious 
for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. It will 

4 



38 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



add to the lustre of your crown in glory, as well as to 
your present joy and peace. We should be willing to 
spend and be spent in his service, saying, ' Lord, may thy 
will be done by me on earth, even as it is by thy angels 
in heaven.' So you may expect to see his face with joy, 
and say, * Here am I, Lord, and all the souls thou hast 
given me.' 

" It seems wonderful that we should neglect any oppor- 
tunity of doing good, when there is, if it be done from 
love to God and his creatures, a present reward of grace, 
in reflecting that we are using the talents committed to 
our care according to the power and ability which we 
receive from him. God requires not what he has not 
promised to give. But when we look back, and reflect 
that there have been opportunities in which we have 
neglected to take up our cross and speak and act for God ; 
what a dejection of mind we feel ! We are then justly 
filled with shame. Conscious of being ashamed of Christ, 
we cannot come with that holy boldness to a throne of 
grace, nor feel that free access when we make our 
supplications. 

" We are commanded to provoke one another to love 
and good works ; and where two are agreed together in 
the things of God, they may say, 

1 And if our fellowship below 

In Jesus be so sweet, 
What heights of rapture shall we know, 

When round the throne we meet V 

" Sir, I hope Mrs. and you are both of one heart 

and one mind. Then you will sweetly agree in all things 
that make for your present and eternal happiness. Christ 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



39 



sent his disciples out, not singly, but two and two ; that 
they might comfort and help each other in those ways and 
works which their Lord commanded them to pursue. 

" It has been my lot to have been alone the greatest 
part of the time that I have known the ways of God. I 
therefore find it such a treat to my soul when I can meet 
with any who loves to talk of the goodness and love of 
God, and all his gracious dealings. What a comfortable 
reflection, to think of spending a whole eternity in that 
delightful employment ! to tell to listening angels his 
love, ' immense, unsearchable !' 

" Dear sir, I thank you for your kindness and conde- 
scension in leaving those that are of high rank and birth 
in the world, to converse with me who am but a servant 
here below. But when I consider what a high calling, 
what honor and dignity God has conferred upon me, to be 
called his child, to be born of his Spirit, made an heir of 
glory, and joint heir with Christ ; how humble and cir- 
cumspect should I be in all my ways, as a dutiful and 
loving child to an affectionate and loving Father ! When 
I seriously consider these things, it fills me with love and 
gratitude to God, and I do not wish for any higher station, 
nor envy the rich. I rather pity them if they are not good 
as well as great. My blessed Lord was pleased to appear 
in the form of a servant ; and I long to be like him. 

" 1 did not feel in so happy a frame for conversation that 
day, nor yet that liberty to explain my thoughts, which I 
sometimes do. The fault must have been all in myself ; 
for there was nothing in you but what seemed to evidence 
a Christian spirit, temper, and disposition. I very much 
wished for an opportunity to converse with you. I feel 
very thankful to God that you do take up the cross, and 



40 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



despise the shame : if you are found faithful, you will 
soon sit down with him in glory. 

" I have written to the Rev. Mr. — — , to thank him 

for permitting you to perform the Burial Service, at , 

over my dear departed sister, and to tell him of the kind 
way in which you consented to do it. I should mention 
that your manner of reading the service on that day had 
a considerable effect on the hearers. 

" Pray excuse all faults, and correct my errors. I ex- 
pect in a few days to return home to my parents' house* 
We shall rejoice to see you there. 

" From your humble servant in Christ, 

« E ■ W ." 

It was impossible to view such a correspondent with 
indifference. I had just returned from a little cottage as- 
sembly, where, on Sunday evenings, I sometimes went to 
instruct a few poor families in one of the hamlets belong- 
ing to my parish. I read the letter, and closed the day 
with thanksgiving to God for thus enabling those who 
fear his name to build up each other in fear and love. 

Of old time> " they that feared the Lord spake often one 
to another : and the Lord hearkened and heard it, and a 
book of remembrance was written before him, for them 
that feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name." 

That book of remembrance is not yet closed* 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



41 



PART III. 

The mind of man is like a moving picture, supplied 
with objects, not only from contemplation on things pre- 
sent, hut from the fruitful sources of recollection and 
anticipation. 

Memory retraces past events, and restores an ideal 
reality to scenes which are gone by for ever. They live 
again in revived imagery, and we seem to hear and see 
with renewed emotions what we heard and saw at a 
former period. Successions of such recollected circum- 
stances often form a series of welcome memorials. In 
religious meditations the memory becomes a sanctified 
instrument of spiritual improvement. 

Another part of this animated picture is furnished by the 
pencil of Hope. She draws encouraging prospects for the 
soul by connecting the past and present with the future. 
Seeing the promises afar off, she is persuaded of their 
truth, and embraces them as her own. 

The Spirit of God gives a blessing to both these acts 
of the mind, and employs them in the service of religion. 
Every faculty of body and soul, when considered as a part 
of "the purchased possession" of the Saviour, assumes a 
new character. How powerfully does the Apostle, on this 
ground, urge a plea for holy activity and watchfulness ! 
" What ! know ye not that your body is the temple of the 
Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and 
ye are not your own ! For ye are bought with a price : 
therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, 
which are God's." 

4* 



42 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



The Christian may derive much profit and enjoyment 
from the use of the memory as it concerns those transac- 
tions in which he once bore a part. In his endeavors to 
recall past conversations and intercourse with deceased 
friends in particular, the powers of remembrance greatly 
improve by exercise. One revived idea produces another, 
till the mind is most agreeably and usefully occupied with 
lively and holy imaginations. 

" Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, 
Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain ; 
Awake bur one, and lo, what myriads rise! 
Each stamps its image as the other flies ; 
Each, as the varied avenues of sense 
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
Brightens or fades : yet all, with sacred art. 
Control the latent fibres of the heart." 

May it please God to bless, both to the reader and the 
writer, this feeble attempt to recollect some of the com- 
munications which I once enjoyed in my visits to the 
Dairyman's dwelling ! 

Very soon after the receipt of the last letter, I rode for 
the first time to see the family at their own house. The 
principal part of the road lay through retired, narrow 
lanes, beautifully overarched with groves of nut and other 
trees, which screened the traveller from the rays of the 
sun, and afforded many interesting objects for admiration 
in the flowers, shrubs, and young trees, which grew upon 
the high banks on each side of the road. Many grotesque 
rocks, with little trickling streams of water occasionally 
breaking out of them, varied the recluse scenery, and pro- 
duced a romantic and pleasing effect. 

Here and there the most distant prospect beyond was 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



13 



observable through gaps and hollow places on the road- 
side. Lofty hills, with navy signal-posts, obelisks, and 
lighthouses on their summits, appeared at these intervals : 
rich cornfields were also visible through some of the open 
places ; and now and then, when the road ascended a hill, 
the sea, with ships at various distances, was seen. But 
for the most part shady seclusion, and objects of a more 
minute and confined nature, gave a character to the jour- 
ney, and invited contemplation. 

How much do they lose who are strangers to serious 
meditation on the wonders and beauties of nature ! How 
gloriously the God of creation shines in his works ! Not 
a tree, or leaf, or flower, not a bird or insect, but it pro- 
claims in glowing language, 44 God made me." 

As I approached the village where the good old Dairy- 
man dwelt, I observed him in a little field, driving his 
cows before him towards a yard and hovel which adjoined 
his cottage. I advanced very near him without his observ- 
ing me, for his sight was dim. On my calling out to him, 
he started at the sound of my voice, but with much glad- 
ness of heart welcomed me, saying— 44 Bless your heart, 
sir, I am very glad you are come : we have looked for you 
every day this week, ?! 

The cottage-door opened, and the daughter came out. 
followed by her aged and infirm mother. The sight of me 
naturally brought to recollection the grave at which we 
had before met. Tears of affection mingled with the 
smile of satisfaction with which I was received by these 
worthy cottagers. I dismounted, and was conducted through 
a neat little garden, part of which was shaded by two large 
overspreading elrn-trees, to the house. Decency and order 
were manifest within and without. No excuse was made 



44 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



here, on the score of poverty, for confusion and unclean- 
liness in the disposal of their little household. Every 
thing wore the aspect of neatness and propriety. On each 
side of the fireplace stood an old oaken armchair, where 
the venerable parents rested their weary limbs after the 
day's labor was over. On a shelf in one corner lay two 
Bibles, with a few religious books and tracts. The little 
room had two windows ; a lovely prospect of hills, woods, 
and fields, appeared through one ; the other was more 
than half obscured by the branches of a vine which was 
trained across it ; between its leaves the sun shone, and 
cast a cheerful light over the whole place. 

" This," thought L " is a fit residence for piety, peace, 
and contentment. May I learn a fresh lesson for ad- 
vancement in each through the blessing of God on this 
visit I" 

" Sir," said the daughter, " we are not worthy that you 
should come under our roof. We take it very kind that 
you should travel so far to see us." 

" My Master," I replied, " came a great deal further to 
visit us poor sinners. He left the bosom of his Father, 
laid aside his glory, and came down to this lower world 
on a visit of mercy and love ; and ought not we, if we 
profess to follow him, to bear each other's infirmities, and 
go about doing good as he did V 

The old man now entered, and joined his wife and 
daughter in giving me a cordial welcome. Our conversa- 
tion soon turned to the loss they had so lately sustained. 
The pious and sensible disposition of the daughter was 
peculiarly manifested, as well in what she said to her 
parents, as in what she more immediately addressed to 
myself. I had now a further opportunity of remarking the 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



45 



good sense and agreeable manner which accompanied her 
expressions of devotedness to God, and love to Christ for 
the great mercies which he had bestowed upon her. Dur- 
ing* her residence in different gentlemen's families where 
she had been in service, she had acquired a superior be- 
havior and address ; but sincere piety rendered her very 
humble and unassuming in manner and conversation. 
She seemed anxious to improve the opportunity of my visit 
to the best purpose for her own and her parents' sake ; 
yet there was nothing of unbecoming forwardness, no self- 
confidence or conceitedness in her conduct. She united 
the firmness and solicitude of the Christian with the mod- 
esty of the female and the dutifulness of the daughter. 
It was impossible to be in her company and not observe 
how truly her temper and conversation adorned the prin- 
ciples which she professed. 

I soon discovered how eager and how successful also 
she had been in her endeavors to bring her father and 
mother to the knowledge and experience of the truth, 
This is a lovely feature in the character of a young Chris- 
tian. If it have pleased God in the free dispensation of 
his mercy to call the child by his grace, while the parent 
remains still in ignorance and sin, how great is- the duty 
incumbent on that child to do what is possible to promote 
the conversion of those to whom so much is owing ! 
Happy is it when the ties of grace sanctify those of nature ! 

The aged couple evidently regarded and spoke of this 
daughter as their teacher and admonisher in divine things, 
while at the same time they received from her every token 
of filial submission and obedience, testified by continual 
endeavors to serve and assist them to the utmost of her 
power in the daily concerns of the household. 



46 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



The religion of this young woman was of a highly 
spiritual character, and of no ordinary attainment. Her 
views of the divine plan in saving the sinner were clear 
and scriptural. She spoke much of the joys and sorrows 
which, in the course of her religious progress, she had 
experienced ; but she was fully sensible that there is far 
more in real religion than mere occasional transition from 
one frame of mind and spirits to another. She believed 
that the experimental acquaintance of the heart with God 
principally consisted in so living upon Christ by faith, as 
to aim at living like him by love. She knew that the love 
of God towards the sinner, and the path of duty prescribed 
to the sinner, are both of an unchangeable nature. In a 
believing dependance on the one, and an affectionate walk 
in the other, she sought and found " the peace of God 
which passeth all understanding " for so he giveth his 
beloved rest." 

She had read but few books besides her Bible ; but these 
few were excellent in their kind, and she spoke of their 
contents as one who knew their value. In addition to a 
Bible and Prayer-book, " Doddridge's Rise and Progress," 
"Romaine's Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," "Bun- 
yan's Pilgrim," "Alleine's Alarm," "Baxter's Saints' Ever- 
lasting Rest," a hymn-book, and a few tracts, composed 
her library. 

I observed in her countenance a pale and delicate hue, 
which I afterward found to be a presage of consumption ; 
and the idea then occurred to me that she would not live 
very long. 

Time passed on swiftly with this interesting family ; 
and after having partaken of some plain and wholesome 
refreshment, and enjoyed a few hours' conversation with 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



47 



them, I found it was necessary for me to return home- 
ward. The disposition and character of the parties may 
be in some sort ascertained by the expressions at parting. 

" God send you safe home again," said the aged mother, 
" and bless the day that brought you to see two poor old 
creatures, such as we are, in our trouble and affliction. 
Come again, sir, come again when you can ; and though 
I am a poor ignorant soul, and not fit to talk to such a 
gentleman as you, yet my dear child shall speak for me ; 
she is the greatest comfort I have left, and I hope the good 
Lord will spare her to support my trembling limbs and 
feeble spirits, till I lie down with my other dear departed 
children in the grave." 

" Trust to the Lord," I answered, " and remember his 
gracious promise ; 4 Even to your old age I am he ; and 
even to hoary hairs I will carry you.' " 

" I thank you, sir," said the daughter, " for your Chris- 
tian kindness to me and my friends. I believe the bless- 
ing of the Lord has attended your visit, and I hope I have 
experienced it to be so. My dear father and mother will, 
I am sure, remember it ; and I rejoice in the opportunity 
of seeing so kind a friend under this roof. My Saviour has 
been abundantly good to me in plucking me 8 as a brand 
from the burning,' and showing me the way of life and 
peace : and I hope it is my heart's desire to live to his 
glory. But I long to see these dear friends enjoy the 
power and comfort of religion likewise." 

" I think it evident," I replied, " that the promise is 
fulfilled in their case ; ' It shall come to pass, that at even- 
ing time it shall be light.' " 

" I believe it," she said, " and praise God for the blessed 
hope." 



48 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" Thank him too, that you have been the happy instru- 
ment of bringing them to the light." 

" I do, sir : yet, when I think of my own unworthiness 
and insufficiency, I rejoice with trembling." 

" Sir," said the good old man, "I am sure the Lord will 
reward you for this kindness. Pray for us, old as we are, 
and sinners as we have been, that yet he would have mercy 
upon us at the eleventh hour. Poor Betsy strives much 
for our sakes, both in body and soul ; she works hard all 
day to save us trouble, and I fear has not strength to sup- 
port all she does ; and then she talks to us, and reads to 
us, and prays for us, that we may be saved from the wrath 
to come. Indeed, sir, she's a rare child to us." 

" Peace be to you, and to all that belong to you !" 

" Amen, and thank you, dear sir," was echoed from each 
tongue. 

Thus we parted for that time. My returning medita- 
tions were sweet, and, I hope, profitable. 

Many other visits were afterward made by me to this 
peaceful cottage, and I always found increasing reason to 
thank God for the intercourse I there enjoyed. 

An interval of some length occurred once during that 
year, in which I had not seen the Dairyman's family. I 
was reminded of the circumstance by the receipt of the 
following letter. 

" Rev. Sir, 

" I have been expecting to see or hear from you for a 
considerable time. Excuse the liberty I take in sending 
you another letter. I have been confined to the house the 

greater part of the time since I left . I took cold 

that day, and have been worse ever since. I walk out a 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



49 



little on these fine days, but seem to myself to walk very 
near on the borders of eternity. Glory be to God, it is a 
very pleasing prospect before me. Though I feel the 
workings of sin, and am abased, yet Jesus shows his 
mercy to be mine, and I trust that I am his. At such 
times, 

' My soul would leave this heavy clay 

At his transporting word, 
Run up with joy the shining way 

To meet and prove the Lord. 

'Fearless of hell and ghastly death, 

I'd break through every foe ; 
The wings of love and arms of faith 

Would bear me conqu'ror through.' 

My desire is to live every moment to God, that I may, 
through his grace, be kept in that heavenly, happy frame 
of mind, that I shall wish for at the hour of death. We 
cannot live nor die happy without this ; and to keep it, we 
must be continually watching and praying : for we have 
many enemies to disturb our peace. I am so very weak, 
that now I can go nowhere to any outward means for that 
help which is so refreshing to my spirit, 

" I should have been very happy to have heard you last 
Sunday, when you preached at — < — : I could not walk so 
far. I hope the word spoken by you was made a blessing 
to many that heard it. It was my earnest prayer to God 
that it might be so. But, alas ! once calling does not 
awaken many that are in a sound sleep. Yet the voice of 
God is sometimes very powerful, when his ministers 
speak ; when they are influenced by his Holy Spirit, and 
are simple and sincere in holding forth the Word of Life. 

5 



50 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



Then it will teach us all things, and enlighten our mind, 
and reveal unto us the hidden things of darkness, and give 
us out of that divine treasure i things new and old.' Rest- 
ing on God to work in us both to will and to do of his own 
good pleasure, we ought always to work as diligent ser- 
vants, that know they have a good Master, that will surely 
not forget their labor of lore. 

" If we could but fix our eyes always on that crown of 
glory that awaits us in the skies, we should never grow 
weary in well-doing ; but should run with patience, and 
delight in the work and ways of God. where he appoints 
us. We should not then, as we too frequently do. sutler 
these trifling objects here on earth to draw away our minds 
from God, to rob him of his glory, and our souls of that 
happiness and comfort which the believer may enjoy 
amidst outward afflictions. If we thus lived more by faith in 
the Son of God, we should endeavor to stir up ail. whom 
we could, to seek after God. We should tell them what 
he has done for us. and what he would do for them, if they 
truly sought him. We should show them what a glorious ex- 
pectation there is for all true believers and sincere seekers. 

When our minds are so fixed on God, we are more 
desirous of glorifying him. in making known his goodness 
to us, than the proud rich man is of getting honor to him- 
self. I mourn over my own backwardness to this exercise 
of duty when I think of God's willingness to save the 
vilest of the vile, according to the dispensations of his 
eternal grace and mercy. O ! how amiable, how lovely 
does this make that God of love appear to poor sinners, 
that can view him as such. How is the soul delighted 
with such a contemplation ! They that have much for- 
given, how much they love ! 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



51 



" These thoughts have been much on my mind since the 

death of . I trust the Lord will pardon me for neglect. 

I thought it was my duty to speak or write to him ; you 
remember what I said to you respecting it. But I still 
delayed till a more convenient season. O ! how I was 
struck when I heard the Lord had taken him so suddenly. 
I was filled with sorrow and shame for having neglected 
what I had so often resolved to do. But now the time of 
speaking for God to him was over. Hence we see that 
the Lord's time is the best time. Now the night of death 
was come upon him ; no more work was to be done. If 
I had done all that lay in my power to proclaim reconcili- 
ation by Christ to his soul, whether he had heard or no, I 
should have been clear of his blood. But I cannot recall 
the time that is past, nor him from the grave. Had I 
known the Lord would have called him so suddenly, how 
diligent I should have been to warn him of his danger ! 
But it is enough that God shows us what we are to do, and 
not what he is about to do with us or any of his creatures. 
Pray, sir, do all you can for the glory of God. The time 
will soon pass by, and then we shall enter that glorious 
rest that he hath prepared for them that love him. I 
pray God to rill you with that zeal and love, which 
only can inspire, that you may daily win souls to Christ. 
May he deliver you from all slavish fear of man, and give 
you boldness, as he did of old those that were filled with 
ihe Holy Ghost and with power \ 

" Remember, Christ hath promised to be with all his 
faithful ministers to the end of time. The greater dan- 
gers and difficulties they are exposed to, the more power- 
ful his assistance. Then, sir, let us fear none but him. 
k hope you will pray much for me a poor sinner, that God 



52 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



will perfect his strength in my weakness of body and 
mind. For without him I can do nothing. But when I 
can experience the teaching of that Holy One, I need no 
other teacher. May the Lord anoint you with the same, 
and give you every grace of his Holy Spirit, that you 
may be filled with all the fulness of God ; that you may 
know what is the height and depth, the length and breadth 
of the love of God in Christ Jesus : that you may be in 
the hand of the Lord, as a keen archer to draw the bow, 
while the Lord directs and fastens the arrows of convic- 
tion in the hearts of such as are under your ministry I 

" I sincerely pray that you may be made a blessing to 
him that has taken the place of the deceased. I have 
heard that you are fellow-countrymen : I hope you are* 
however, both as strangers in this world, that have no 
abiding place, but seek a country out of sight. 
" Pray excuse all faults, from 

your humble servant in the 

bonds of the Gospel of Christ, 
« E ■ W <" 

When I perused this and other letters, which were at 
different times written to me by the Dairyman's daughter, 
I felt that, in the person of this interesting correspondent, 
were singularly united the characters of an humble dis- 
ciple and a faithful monitor. I wished to acknowledge the 
goodness of God in each of these her capacities. 

I sometimes entertain a hope that the last day will un- 
fold the value of these epistolary communications, beyond 
even any present estimate of their spiritual importance* 



THE DAIRT3IAX'S DAUGHTER. 



53 



PART IV. 

The translation of sinners " from the power of dark- 
ness into the kingdom of God's dear Son,'' is the joy of 
Christians and the admiration of angels. Every penitent 
and pardoned soul is a new witness to the triumphs of the 
Redeemer over sin, death, and the grave. How great the 
change that is wrought ! The child of wrath becomes a 
monument of grace — a brand plucked from the burning ! 
" If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature : old 
things are passed away ; behold, all things are become 
new." How marvellous, how interesting, is the spiritual 
history of each individual believer ! He is, like David, 
" a wonder to many," but the greatest wonder of all to 
himself. Others may doubt whether it be so or not ; but 
to Mm it is unequivocally, proved, that, from first to last, 
grace alone reigns in the work of his salvation. 

The character and privileges of real Christians are 
beautifully described in the language of our church : who, 
when speaking of the objects of divine favor and compas- 
sion, says : " They that be endued with so excellent a 
benefit of God, be called according to God's purpose in due 
season : they through grace obey the calling : they be jus- 
tified freely : they be made sons of God by adoption : they 
be made like the image of his only begotten Son, Jesus 
Christ : they walk religiously in good works : and at length 
by God's mercy they attain to everlasting felicity." 

Such a conception and display of the Almighty wisdom, 
power, and love, is indeed " full of sweet, pleasant, and 
unspeakable comfort to godly persons, and such as feel 
~ 5* 



54 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



in themselves the working of the Spirit of Christ mortify- 
ing the works of the flesh, and their earthly members ; 
and drawing up their minds to high and heavenly things : 
it doth greatly establish and confirm their faith of eternal 
salvation, to be enjoyed through Christ, and doth fervently 
kindle their love towards God." 

Nearly allied to the consolation of a good hope through 
grace, as it respects our own personal state before God, 
is that of seeing its evidences shed lustre over the dispo- 
sition and conduct of others. Bright was the exhibition 
of the union between true Christian enjoyment and Chris- 
tian exertion, in the character whose moral and spiritual 
features I am attempting to delineate. 

It seemed to be the first wish of her heart to prove to 
others what God had already proved to her, that Jesus is 
" the way, and the truth, and the life." She desired to 
evince the reality of her calling, justification, and adop- 
tion into the family of God> by showing a conformity to the 
image of Christ, and by walking "religiously in good 
works :" she trusted, that, in this path of faith and obe- 
dience, she should " at length, by God's mercy, attain to 
everlasting felicity." 

I had the spiritual charge of another parish, adjoining 
to that in which I resided. It was a small district, and 
had but few inhabitants. The church was pleasantly 
situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable 
hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural, retired 
appearance. Close to the churchyard stood a large old 
mansion, which had formerly been the residence of an 
opulent and titled family ; but it had long since been ap- 
propriated to the use of the estate as a farm-house. Its 
outward aspect bore considerable remains of ancient 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



55 



grandeur, and gave a pleasing character to the spot of 
ground on which the church stood. 

In every direction the roads that led to this house of 
God possessed distinct but interesting features. One of 
them ascended between several rural cottages, from the 
seashore, which adjoined the lower part of the village 
street. Another winded round the curved sides of the 
adjacent hill, and was adorned both above and below with 
numerous sheep, feeding on the herbage of the down. A 
third road led to the church by a gently rising approach, 
between high banks, covered with young trees, bushes, 
ivy, hedge-plants, and wild flowers. 

From a point of land which commanded a view of all 
these several avenues, I used sometimes for a w T hile to 
watch my congregation gradually assembling together at 
the hour of Sabbath worship, They were in some direc- 
tions visible for a considerable distance. Gratifying 
associations of thought would form in my mind, as I con- 
templated their approach, and successive arrival, within 
the precincts of the house of prayer. 

One day, as I was thus occupied, during a short inter- 
val previous to the hour of divine service, I reflected on 
the joy which David experienced, at the time he exclaim- 
ed : "I was glad, when they said unto me, Let us go into 
the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy 
gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem is builded as a city that 
is compact together ; whither the tribes go up, the tribes 
of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks 
unto the name of the Lord." 

I was led to reflect upon the various blessings connect- 
ed with the establishment of public worship. " How 
many immortal souls are now gathering together to per- 



56 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



form the all- important work of prayer and praise — to hear 
the word of God — to feed upon the bread of life ! They 
are leaving their respective dwellings, and will soon be 
united together in the house of prayer. How beautifully 
does this represent the effect produced by the voice of 
1 the Good Shepherd,' calling his sheep from every part of 
the wilderness into his fold ! As these fields, hills, and 
lanes, are now covered with men, women, and children, in 
various directions, drawing nearer to each other, and to 
the object of their journey's end ; even so, many shall 
come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, 
and from the south, and shall sit down in the kiuffdom of 
God.' " 

Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours as 
these 1 — hours spent in learning the ways of holy plea- 
santness and the paths of heavenly peace — hours devoted* 
to the service of God and of souls ; in warning the sinner 
to flee from the wrath to come ; in teaching the ignorant 
how to live and die ; in preaching the Gospel to the poor; 
in healing the broken-hearted ; in declaring " deliverance 
to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind." — 
" Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound : they 
shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In 
thy name shall they rejoice all the day, and in thy righte- 
ousness shall they be exalted." 

My thoughts then pursued a train of reflection on the 
importance of the ministerial office, as connected in the 
purposes of God with the salvation of sinners. I inwardly 
prayed that those many individuals whom he had given 
me to instruct, might not, through my neglect or error, be 
as sheep having no shepherd, nor as the blind led by the 
blind : but rather that I might in season and out of season 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



57 



faithfully proclaim the simple and undisguised truths of 
the Gospel, to the glory of God and the prosperity of his 
church. 

At that instant, near the bottom of the enclosed lane 
which led to the churchyard, I observed a friend, whom, 
at such a distance from his owm home, I little expected to 
meet. It was the venerable Dairyman. He came up the 
ascent, leaning with one hand on his trusty staff, and with 
the other on the arm of a younger man, well known to 
me, who appeared to be much gratified in meeting with 
such a companion by the way. 

My station was on the top of one of the banks which 
formed the hollow road beneath. They passed a few 
yards below me. I was concealed from their sight by a 
projecting tree. They were talking of the mercies of 
God, and the unsearchable riches of his grace. The Dai- 
ryman was telling his companion what a blessing the Lord 
had given him in his daughter. His countenance bright- 
ened as he named her, and called her his precious Betsy. 

I met them at a stile not many yards beyond, and ac«> 
companied them to the church, w 7 hich was hard by, 

"Sir," said the old man, "I have brought a letter from 
my daughter—- 1 hope I am in time for divine service, 
Seven miles is now become a long walk for me : I grow 
old and weak — =1 am very glad to see you, sir." 

" How is your daughter V' 

" Very poorly indeed, sir : very poorly — the doctors say 
it is a decline. I sometimes hope she will get the better 
of it ; but then again I have many fears. You know, sir, 
that I have cause to love and prize her. O ! it would be 
such a trial ; but the Lord knows what is best. Excuse 
my weakness, sir." 



58 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



He put a letter into my hand, the perusal of which I 
reserved till afterward, as the time was nigh for going 
into church. 

The presence of this aged pilgrim, the peculiar rever- 
ence and affection with which he joined in the different 
parts of the service, excited many gratifying thoughts in 
my mind ; such as rather furthered than interrupted de- 
votion. 

The train of reflection in which I had been engaged, 
when I first discovered him on the road, at intervals re- 
curred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that very 
congregation assembled together in the house of God, 
whose steps, in their approach towards it, I had watched 
with prayerful emotions. 

" Here the rich and poor meet together in mutual 
acknowledgment, that the Lord is the Maker of them all ; 
and that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up to 
one common Father to supply their wants, both temporal 
and spiritual. 

" Again, likewise, will they meet together in the grave, 
that undistinguished receptacle of the opulent and the 
needy. 

" And once more, at the judgment-seat of Christ shall 
the rich and the poor meet together, that 4 every one may 
receive the things done in his body, according to that he 
hath done, whether it be good or bad.' 

" How closely connected in the history of man are these 
three periods of a general meeting together ! 

" The house of prayer — the house appointed for all liv- 
ing — and the house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens. May we never separate these ideas from each 
other, but retain them in a sacred and profitable union I 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



59 



So shall our worshipping assemblies on earth be represen- 
tative of the general assembly and church of the first-born, 
which are written in heaven." 

When the congregation dispersed, I entered into dis- 
course with the Dairyman and a few of the poor of my 
flock, whose minds were of like disposition to his own. 
He seldom could speak long together without some refer- 
ence to his dear child. He loved to tell how merciful 
his God had been to him, in the dutiful and affectionate 
attentions of his daughter. All real Christians feel a ten- 
der spiritual attachment towards those who have been the 
instrument of bringing them to an effectual knowledge of 
the way of salvation : but when that instrument is one so 
nearly allied, how dear does the relationship become ! 

If my friend the Dairyman was in any danger of falling 
into idolatry, his child would have been the idol of his af- 
fections. She was the prop and stay of her parents' 
declining years, and they scarcely know how sufficiently 
to testify the gratitude of their hearts, for the comfort and 
blessing which she was the means of affording them. 

While he was relating several particulars of his family 
history to the others, I opened and read the following letter. 

" Sir, 

" Once more I take the liberty to trouble you with a 
few lines. I received your letter With great pleasure, 
and thank you for it. I am now so weak, that I am una- 
ble to walk to any public place of divine worship, a privi- 
lege which has heretofore always so much strengthened 
and refreshed me. I used to go in anxious expectation 
to meet my God, and hold sweet communion with him, 
and I was seldom disappointed. In the means of grace, 



60 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



all the channels of divine mercy are open to every heart 
that is lifted up to receive out of that divine fulness grace 
for grace. These are the times of refreshing from the 
presence of the Lord. How have I rejoiced to hear a 
faithful and lively messenger, just come, as it were, from 
communion with God at the throne of grace, with his 
heart warmed and rilled with divine love, to speak to fallen 
sinners ! Such a one has seemed to me as if his face 
shone as that of Moses did with the glory of God, when 
he came down from the mount ; where he had been within 
the vail. May you, sir, imitate him, as he did Christ, that 
all may see and know that the Lord dwelleth with you, 
and that you dwell in him through the unity of the blessed 
Spirit. I trust you are no stranger to his divine teaching, 
aid, and assistance, in all you set your hand to do for the 
glory of God. 

" I hope, sir, the sincerity of my wishes for your spirit- 
ual welfare will plead an excuse for the freedom of my 
address to you. I pray the Giver of every perfect gift, 
that you may experience the mighty workings of his gra- 
cious Spirit in your heart and your ministry, and rest your 
all on the justifying and purifying blood of an expiring 
Redeemer. Then will you triumph in his strength, and 
be enabled to say with the poet : — 

1 Shall I through fear of feeble men 
The Spirit's course strive to restrain 1 
Or, undismay'd in deed and word, 
Be a true witness for my Lord 7 

Aw'd by a mortal's frown, shall I 
Conceal the word of God most high ? 
How then before thee shall I dare 
To fetand, or how thine anger bear ? 



THE DAIETMAN's DAUGHTER. 



61 



« Shall I, to soothe th' unholy throng, 
Soften thy truths and smooth my tongue 
To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee 
The cross endur'd, my God, by thee ? 

« What then is he, whose scorn I dread 1 
Whose wrath or hate makes me afraid ? 
A man? an heir of death 1 a slave 
To sin, a bubble on the wave 1 

1 Yea, let men rage, since thou wilt spread 
Thy shadowing wings around my head : 
Since in all pain thy tender love 
Will still my sure refreshment prove. 

' Still shall the love of Christ constrain 
To seek the wand'ring souls of men, 
With cries, entreaties, tears to save, 
And snatch them from the yawning grave. 

* For this let men revile my name, 
No cross I shun, I fear no shame : 
All hail reproach, and welcome pain, 
Only thy terrors, Lord, restrain.' 

" I trust, sir, that you see what a glorious high calling 
yours is, and that you are one of those who walk humbly 
with God, that you may be taught of him in all things. 
Persons in your place are messengers of the most high 
God. Is it too much to say, they should live like the 
angels in all holiness, and be filled with love and zeal for 
men's souls I They are ambassadors, in Christ's stead, to 
persuade sinners to be reconciled to God. So that your 
calling is above that of angels : for they are afterward to 
minister to the heirs of salvation ; but the sinner must be 
•first reconciled to God. And you are called on from day 
to day to intercede with man as his friend, that you may 

6 



82 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



win souls to Christ. Christ is ascended up on high, to 
intercede with his Father for guilty sinners, and to plead 
for them the merits of his death. So that Christ and his 
faithful ministers, through the operation of the blessed 
Spirit, are co-workers together. Yet, without him we 
can do nothing ; our strength is his strength, and his is 
all the glory from first to last. 

" It is my heart's prayer and desire, sir, that you may, 
by a living faith, cleave close to that blessed exalted Lamb 
of God, who died to redeem us from sin — that you may 
have a sweet communion with Father, Son, and Spirit — 
that you may sink deep in humble love, and rise high in 
the life of God. Thus will you have such discoveries of 
the beauties of Christ and his eternal glory, as will fill 
your heart with true delight. 

" If I am not deceived, I wish myself to enjoy his gra- 
cious favor, more than all the treasures which earth can 
afford. I would in comparison look upon them with holy 
disdain, and as not worth an anxious thought, that they 
may not have power on my heart, to draw or attract it 
from God, who is worthy of my highest esteem, and of all 
my affections. It should be our endeavor to set him alway 
before us, that in all things we may act as in his imme- 
diate presence : that we may be filled with that holy fear, 
so that we may not dare wilfully to sin against him. We 
should earnestly entreat the Lord to mortify the power 
and working of sin and unbelief within us, by making 
Christ appear more and more precious in our eyes, and 
more dear to our hearts. 

" It fills my heart with thankful recollections, while I 
attempt in this weak manner to speak of God's love to 
man. When I reflect on my past sins and his past mer- 



THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 



63 



cies, I am assured, that if I had all the gifts of wise men 
and angels, I could never sufficiently describe my own in- 
ward sense of his undeserved love towards me. We can 
better enjoy these glorious apprehensions in our hearts, 
than explain them to others. But, O ! how unworthy of 
them all are we ! Consciousness of my own corruptions 
keeps me often low ; yet faith and desire will easily mount 
on high, beseeching God that he would, according to the 
Apostle's prayer, fill me with all his communicable fulness, 
in the gifts and graces of his Spirit ; that I may walk 
well-pleasing before him, in all holy conversation, perfect- 
ing holiness in his fear. 

" If I err in boldness, sir, pray pardon me, and in your 
next letter confirm my hope, that you will be my counsel- 
lor and guide. 

" I can only recompense your kindness to me by my 
prayers, that your own intercourse with God may be abun- 
dantly blessed to you and yours. I consider the Saviour 
saying to you, as he did to Peter, 4 Lovest thou me V And 
may your heartfelt experience be compelled to reply, 
6 Thou knowest all things, and thou knowest that I love 
thee' supremely. May he have evident marks of it in all 
your outward actions of love and humanity, in feeding his 
flock, and in the inward fervor and affection of all your 
consecrated powers : that you may be zealously engaged in 
pulling down the strongholds of sin and Satan, and build- 
ing up his church ; sowing the seeds of righteousness, 
and praying God to give the increase— that you may not 
labor for him in vain ; but may see the trees bud and blos- 
som, and bring forth fruit abundantly, to the praise and 
glory of your heavenly Master. In order to give you en- 
couragement, he says, whosoever 'converteth a sinner 



64 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



from the error of his way, shall save a soul from death 
and that will increase the brightness of your crown in 
glory. This hath Christ merited for his faithful ministers. 

" I hope, sir, you will receive grace to be sincere in 
reproving sin, wherever you see it. You will find divine 
assistance, and all fear and shame taken from you. Great 
peace will be given to you, and wisdom, strength, and 
courage, according to your work. You will be as Paul ; 
having much learning, you can speak to men in all sta- 
tions in life, by God's assistance. The fear of offending 
them will never prevent you, when you consider the glory 
of God ; and man's immortal soul is of more value than 
his present favor and esteem. In particular, you are in an 
office wherein you can visit all the sick. Man's extremity 
is often God's opportunity. In this way you may prove 
an instrument in his hand to do his work. Although he can 
work without means, yet his usual way is by means : and 
I trust you are a chosen vessel unto him, to prove his 
name and declare his truth to all men. 

" Visiting the sick is a strict command, and a duty for 
every Christian. None can tell what good may be done. 
I wish it was never neglected, as it too often is. Many 
think, that if they attend in the church, the minister to 
preach, and the people to hear, their duty is done. But 
more is required than this. May the Lord stir up the 
gift that is in his people and ministers, that they may have 
compassion on their fellow-sinners, that they may never 
think it too late, but remember, that, while there is life, 
there is hope. 

"Once more, I pray, sir, pardon and excuse all my 
errors in judgment, and the ignorance that this is penned 
in ; and may God bless you in all things, and particularly 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



65 



your friendship to me and my parents. What a com- 
fort is family religion ! I do not doubt but this is your 
desire, as it is mine, to say, 

* I and my house will serve the Lord, 
But first obedient to his word 

I must myself appear : 
By actions, words, and tempers show, 
That I my heavenly Master know, 

And serve with heart sincere. 

* I must the fair example set, 

From those that on my pleasure wait 

The stumbling-block remove ; 
Their duty by my life explain, 
And still in all my works maintain 

The dignity of love. 

1 Easy to be entreated, mild, 
Quickly appeas'd and reconciled, 

A follower of my God : 
A saint indeed I long to be, 
And lead my faithful family 
In the celestial road. 

'Lord, if thou dost the wish infuse, 
A vessel fitted for thy use 

Into thy hands receive : 
Work in me both to will and do, 
And show them how believers true 

And real Christians live. 

1 With all-sufficient grace supply, 
And then I'll come to testify 

The wonders of thy name, 
Which saves from sin, the world, and hell : 
Its power may every sinner feel, 

And every tongue proclaim ! 

« Cleans'd by the blood of Christ from sin, 
I seek my relatives to win, 

6* 



66 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



And preach their sins forgiven; 
Children, and wife, and servants seize, 
And through the paths of pleasantness, 
Conduct them all to heaven.' 

" Living so much in a solitary way, books are my com- 
panions ; and poetry, which speaks of the love of God 
and the mercies of Christ, is very sweet to my mind. 
This must be my excuse for troubling you to read verses 
which others have written. I have intended, if my decli- 
ning state of health permit, to go to — « for a few days. 
I say this, lest you should call in expectation of seeing 
me, during any part of next week. But my dear father 
and mother, for whose precious souls I am very anxious, 
will reap the benefit of your visit at all events. From 
" Your humble and unworthy servant, 

" E- W ." 

Having read it, I said to the father of my highly valued 
correspondent, 

" I thank you for being the bearer of this letter : your 
daughter is a kind friend and faithful counsellor to me, as 
well as to you. Tell her how highly I esteem her friend- 
ship, and that I feel truly obliged for the many excellent 
sentiments which she has here expressed. Give her my 
blessing, and assure her that the oftener she writes, the 
more thankful I shall be." 

The Dairyman's enlivened eye gleamed with pleasure 
as I spoke. The praise of his Elizabeth was a string 
which could not be touched without causing every nerve 
of his whole frame to vibrate. 

His voice half faltered, as he spoke in reply : the tear 
started in his eyes ; his hand trembled, as I pressed it ; 
his heart was full ; he could only say — 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 67 

" Sir, a poor old man thanks you for your kindness to 
him and his family : God bless you, sir ; I hope we shall 
soon see you again." 

Thus we parted for that day. 



PART V. 

It has not unfrequently been observed that when it is 
the Lord's pleasure to remove any of his faithful followers 
out of this life at an early period of their course, they 
make rapid progress in the experience of divine truth. 
The fruits of the Spirit ripen fast, as they advance to the 
close of mortal existence. In particular, they grow in 
humility, through a deeper sense of inward corruption, 
and a clearer view of the perfect character of the Saviour. 
Disease and bodily weakness make the thoughts of eter- 
nity recur with frequency and power. The great ques- 
tion of their own personal salvation, the quality of their 
faith, the sincerity of their love, and the purity of their 
hope, is in continual exercise. 

Unseen realities, at such a time, occupy a larger por- 
tion of thought than before. The state of existence be- 
yond the grave, the invisible world, the unaltered charac- 
ter of the dead, the future judgment, the total separation 
from every thing earthly, the dissolution of body and spirit, 
and their reunion at the solemn hour of resurrection, — 
these are subjects for their meditation, which call for ear- 
nestness of soul. Whatever consolations from the Spirit 



08 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



of God they may have enjoyed heretofore, they become 
now doubly anxious to examine and prove themselves, 
" whether they be indeed in the faith." In doing this they 
sometimes pass through hidden conflicts of a dark and dis- 
tressing nature ; from which, however, they come forth, 
like gold tried in the furnace. Awhile they may sow in 
tears, but soon they reap in joy. 

Their religious feelings have then, perhaps, less of ec- 
stacy, but more of serenity. 

As the ears of corn ripen for the harvest, they bow their 
heads nearer to the ground. So it is with believers ; they 
then see more than ever of their own imperfection, and 
often express their sense of it in strong language ; yet 
they repose with a growing confidence on the love of God 
through Christ Jesus. The nearer they advance to their 
eternal rest, the more humble they become, but not the 
less useful in their sphere. They feel anxiously desirous 
of improving every talent they possess, to the glory of 
God, knowing that the time is short. 

I thought I observed the truth of these remarks ful- 
filled in the progressive state of mind of the Dairyman's 
daughter. 

Declining health seemed to indicate the will of God con- 
cerning her. But her character, conduct, and experience 
of the divine favor, increased in brightness as the setting 
sun of her mortal life approached its horizon. The last 
letter which, with the exception of a very short note, I 
ever received from her, I shall now transcribe. It ap- 
peared to me to bear the marks of a still deeper acquaint- 
ance with the workings of her own heart, and a more entire 
reliance upon the free mercy of God. 

The original, while I copy it, strongly revives the image 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



69 



of the deceased, and the many profitable conversations 
which I once enjoyed in her company, and that of her 
parents. It again endears to me the recollections of cot- 
tage piety, and helps me to anticipate the joys of that day, 
when the spirits of the glorified saints shall be reunited 
to their bodies, and be for ever with the Lord. 

The writer of this and the preceding letters herself 
little imagined, when they were penned, that they would 
ever be submitted to the public eye : that they now are 
so, results from a conviction that the friends of the pious 
poor will estimate them according to their value ; and a 
hope that it may please God to honor these memorials of 
the dead, to the effectual edification of the living. 

" Rev. Sir, 

" In consequence of your kind permission, I take the 
liberty to trouble you with another of my ill- written let* 
ters ; and I trust you have too much of your blessed Mas- 
ter's lowly, meek, and humble mind, to be offended with 
a poor, simple, ignorant creature, whose intentions are 
pure and sincere in writing. My desire is, that I, a weak 
vessel of his grace, may glorify his name for his goodness 
towards me. May the Lord direct me by his counsel and 
wisdom ! May he overshadow me with his presence ; 
that I may sit beneath the banner of his love, and find the 
consolations of his blessed Spirit sweet and refreshing to 
my soul ! 

" When I feel that I am nothing, and God is all in all, 
then I can willingly fly to him, saying, * Lord, help me ; 
Lord, teach me ; be unto me my Prophet, Priest, and 
King, Let me know the teaching of thy grace, and the 
disclosing of thy love.' What nearness of access might 



70 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



we have if we lived more near to God ! What sweet 
communion might we have with a God of love ! He is 
the great I AM. How glorious a name ! Angels with 
trembling awe prostrate themselves before him, and in 
humble love adore and worship him. One says, 

{ While the first archangel sings, 
He hides his face behind his wings." 

Unworthy as I am, I have found it by experience, that the 
more I see of the greatness and goodness of God, and the 
nearer union I hope I have had with him through the 
Spirit of his love, the more humble and self-abased I 
have been. 

" But every day I may say, s Lord, how little I love 
thee, how far I live from thee, how little am I like thee in 
humility !' It is nevertheless my heart's desire to love 
and serve him better. I find the way in which God does 
more particularly bless me, is when I attend on the public 
ordinances of religion. These are the channels through 
which he conveys the riches of his grace and precious love 
to my soul. These I have often found to be indeed the 
time of refreshing and strengthening from the presence 
of the Lord. Then I can see my hope of an interest in 
the covenant of his love, and praise him for his mercy to 
the greatest of sinners. 

" I earnestly wish to be more established in his ways, 
and to honor him in the path of duty, whilst I enjoy the 
smiles of his favor. In the midst of all outward afflic- 
tions I pray that I may know Christ, and the power of his 
resurrection within my soul. If I were always thus, my 
summer would last all the year ; my will would then be 
sweetly lost in God's will, and I should feel a resignation 
in every dispensation of his providence and his grace, saying, 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



71 



* Good is the will of the Lord : Infinite Wisdom cannot 
err.' Then would patience have its perfect work. 

" But, alas ! sin and unbelief often, too often, interrupt 
these frames, and lay me low before God in tears of sor- 
row. I often think what a happiness it would be, if his 
love were so fixed in my heart, that I might willingly obey 
him with alacrity and delight, and gradually mortify the 
power of self-will, passion, and pride. This can only arise 
from a good hope through grace, that we are washed in 
that precious blood which cleanses us from every sinful 
stain, and makes us new creatures in Christ. O that we 
may be the happy witnesses of the saving power and virtue 
of that healing stream wnich flows from the fountain of 
everlasting love ! 

" Sir, my faith is often exceedingly weak : can you be 
so kind as to tell me, what you have found to be the most 
effectual means of strengthening it! I often think how 
plainly the Lord declares, Believe only, and thou shalt be 
saved. Only have faith ; all things are possible to him 
that has it. How I wish that we could remove all those 
mountains that hinder and obstruct the light of his grace ; 
so that having full access unto God through that ever- 
blessed Spirit, we might lovingly commune with him as 
with the dearest of friends. What favor does God bestow 
on worms ! And yet we love to murmur and complain. 
He may well say, What should I have done more, that I 
have not done ] or wherein have I proved unfaithful or 
unkind to my faithless backsliding children ] 

" Sir, I pray that I may not grieve him, as I have done, 
any more. I want your counsel and your prayers for me 
in this matter. How refreshing is the sight of one that 
truly loves God, that bears his image and likeness ! 



72 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" But delightful as is conversation with true believers 
on earth, whose hearts are lifted up to things above, yet 
what is this to that happy day which will admit us into 
more bright realms ; where we shall for ever behold a 
God of love in the smiling face of his Son, who is the ex- 
press image of his Father and the brightness of his glory ! 
Then, if found in him, we shall be received by the innu- 
merable host of angels who wait around his throne. 

" In the mean time, sir, may I take up my cross, and 
manfully fight under Him, who for the glory that was set 
before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is 
now set down at his Father's right hand in majesty ! I 
thank you for the kind liberty you have given me of wri- 
ting to you. I feel my health declining, and I find a relief 
during an hour of pain and weakness in communicating 
these thoughts to you. 

" I hope, sir, you go on your way rejoicing ; that you 
are enabled to thank Him who is the Giver of every good 
gift, spiritual, temporal, and providential, for blessings to 
yourself and your ministry. I do not doubt but you often 
meet with circumstances, which are not pleasing to na- 
ture, yet, by the blessing of God, they will be all profit- 
able in the end. They are kindly designed by grace to 
make and keep us humble. The difficulties which you 
spoke of to me some time since will, I trust, disappear. 

" My dear father and mother are as well as usual in 
bodily health, and I hope grow in grace, and in the know- 
ledge and love of Jesus Christ. My chief desire to live 
is for their sakes. It now seems long since we have seen 
you. I am almost ashamed to request you to come to our 
little cottage to visit those who are so much below your 
station in life. But if you cannot come, we shall be very 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



73 



glad if you will write a few lines. I ought to make an 
excuse for my letter, I spell so badly : this was a great 
neglect when I was young. I gave myself greatly to 
reading, but not to the other, and now I am too weak and 
feeble to learn much, 

" I hear sometimes of persons growing serious in your 
congregation. It gives me joy, and if true, I am sure it 
does so to yourself, I long for the pure Gospel of Christ 
to be preached in every church in the world, and for the 
time when all shall know, love, and fear the Lord ; and 
the uniting Spirit of God shall make them of one heart and 
mind in Christ our great Head. Your greatest joy, I know, 
will be in laboring much for the glory of God in the sal- 
vation of men's souls. You serve a good Master. You 
have a sure reward. I pray God to give you strength ac- 
cording to your day. 

" Pray, sir, do not be offended at the freedom and man- 
ner of my writing. My parents' duty and love to you are 
sent with these lines, from 

"Your humble servant in Christ, 

"E W- ." 

Epistolary communications, when written in sincerity 
of heart, afford genuine portraits of the mind. May the 
foregoing be viewed with Christian candor, and conse- 
crated to affectionate memory ! 

7 



74 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



PART VI. 

Travellers, as they pass through the country, usually 
stop to inquire whose are the splendid mansions which 
they discover among the woods and plains around them. 
The families, titles, fortune, or character of the respective 
owners, engage much attention. Perhaps their houses are 
exhibited to the admiring stranger. The elegant rooms, 
costly furniture, valuable paintings, beautiful gardens and 
shrubberies are universally approved ; while the rank, 
fashion, taste, and riches of the possessor, afford ample 
materials for entertaining discussion. In the mean time, 
the lowly cottage of the poor husbandman is passed by as 
scarcely deserving of notice. Yet perchance such a cot- 
tage may often contain a treasure of infinitely more value 
than the sumptuous palace of the rich man, even " the 
pearl of great price." If this be set in the heart of the 
poor cottager, it proves a gem of unspeakable worth, 
and will shine among the brightest ornaments of the Re- 
deemer's crown, in that day when he maketh up his 
"jewels." 

Hence, the Christian traveller, while in common with 
others he bestows his due share of applause on the deco- 
rations of the rich, and is not insensible to the beauties 
and magnificence which are the lawfully allowed appen- 
dages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humbler 
dwelling of the poor. And if he should find that true piety 
and grace beneath the thatched roof which he has in vain 
looked for amidst the worldly grandeur of the rich, he 
remembers the declarations in the word of God. He sees 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



75 



with admiration, that " the high and lofty One, that inhab- 
iteth eternity, whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the 
high and holy place, dwelleth with him also that is of a 
contrite and humble spirit," (Isaiah Ivii. 15,) and although 
heaven is his throne, and the earth his footstool, yet, when 
a house is to be built, and a place of rest to be sought for 
himself, he says, " To this man will I look, even to him 
that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my 
word."- — Isa. lxii. 1, 2. 

When a house is thus tenanted, faith beholds this in- 
scription written on the walls, The Lord lives here. Faith 
therefore cannot pass it by unnoticed, but loves to lift up 
the latch of the door, and to sit down and converse with 
the poor, although perhaps despised inhabitant. Many a 
sweet interview does Faith obtain, when she thus takes 
her walks abroad. Many such a sweet interview have I 
myself enjoyed beneath the roof where dwelt the Dairy- 
man and his little family. 

I soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly 
on the decline. The pale wasting consumption, which is 
the Lord's instrument for removing so many thousands 
every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides 
on her constitution. The hollow eye, the distressing 
cough, and the often too nattering flush on the cheek, 
foretold the approach of death. 

What a field for usefulness and affectionate attention, 
on the part of Ministers and Christian friends, is opened 
by the frequent attacks, and lingering process of consump- 
tive illness ! How many such precious opportunities are 
daily lost, where Providence seems in so marked a way to 
afford time and space for serious and godly instruction ! 
Of how many may it be said, " The way of peace have 



76 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



they not known !" for not one friend ever came nigh, to 
warn them to " flee from the wrath to come." 

But the Dairyman's daughter was happily made ac- 
quainted with the things which belonged to her everlast- 
ing peace before the present disease had taken root in her 
constitution. In my visits to her, I went rather to receive 
information than to impart it. Her mind was absolutely 
stored with divine truths, and her conversation was truly 
edifying. The recollection of it will ever produce a thank- 
ful sensation in my heart. 

I one day received a short note to the following effect : 

Dear Sir, 

" I should be very glad, if your convenience will al- 
low, that you would come and see a poor unworthy sinner : 
my hour-glass is nearly run out, hut I hope I can see 
Christ to be precious to my soul. Your conversation has 
often been blessed to me, and I now feel the need of it more 
than ever. My father and mother send their duty to you. 
" From your obedient, 

" And unworthy servant, 

"E W- 

I obeyed the summons that same afternoon. On my 
arrival at the Dairyman's cottage, his wife opened the 
door. The tears streamed down her cheek, as she silent- 
ly shook her head. Her heart was full. She tried to 
speak, but could not. I took her by the hand, and said, 

M My good friend, all is right, and as the Lord of wisdom 
and mercy directs.*' 

" O ! my Betsy, my dear girl, is so bad, sir : what shall 
I do without her I — I thought I should have gone first to 
the grave, but 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



77 



" But the Lord sees good that before you die yourself, 
you should behold your child safe home to glory. Is there 
no mercy in this I" 

" O dear sir ! I am very old and very weak ; and she is a 
dear child, the staff and prop of a poor old creature as I am." 

As I advanced, I saw Elizabeth sitting by the fireside, 
supported in an armchair by pillows, with every mark of 
rapid decline and approaching death. A sweet smile of 
friendly complacency enlightened her pale countenance, 
as she said, 

" This is very kind indeed, sir, to come so soon after I 
sent to you. You find me daily wasting away, and I can- 
not have long to continue here. My flesh and my heart 
fail ; but God is the strength of my weak heart, and I 
trust will be my portion for ever." 

The conversation was occasionally interrupted by her 
cough and want of breath. Her tone of voice was clear, 
though feeble ; her manner solemn and collected, and her 
eye, though more dim than formerly, by no means wanting 
in liveliness, as she spoke. I had frequently admired the 
superior language in which she expressed her ideas, as 
well as the scriptural consistency with which she commu- 
nicated her thoughts. She had a good natural under- 
standing ; and grace, as is generally the case, had much 
improved it. On the present occasion I could not help 
thinking she was peculiarly favored. The whole strength 
of gracious and natural attainments seemed to be in full 
exercise. 

After taking my seat between the daughter and the 
mother, (the latter fixing her fond eyes upon her child 
with great anxiety while we were conversing,) I said to 
Elizabeth — 

7* 



73 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DArGHTEPw. 



" I hope you enjoy a sense of the Divine presence, and 
can rest all upon Him who has 4 been with thee,' and has 
kept • thee in all places whither thou hast gone,' and will 
bring thee into 'the land of pure delights, where saints im- 
mortal reign.' " 

" Sir, I think I can. My mind has lately been some- 
times clouded, but I believe it has been partly owing to 
the great weakness and suffering of my bodily frame, and 
partly to the envy of my spiritual enemy, who wants to 
persuade me that Christ has no love for me, and that I 
have been a self-dec eiver." 

"And do you give way to his suggestions ! Can you 
doubt amidst such numerous tokens of past and present 
mercy V* 

"Xo. sir, I mostly am enabled to preserve a clear evi- 
dence of his love. I do not wish to add to my other sins 
that of denying his manifest goodness to my soul. I 
would acknowledge it to his praise and glory." 

" What is your present view of the state in which you 
were, before you felt seriously concerned about the salva- 
tion of your soul V' 

••Sir. I was a proud, thoughtless girl, fond of dress and 
finery ; I loved the world, and the things that are in the 
world ; I lived in service among worldly people, and 
never had the happiness of being in a family where wor- 
ship was regarded, and the souls of the servants cared for 
either by master or mistress. I went once on a Sunday 
to church. more_to see and be seen, than to pray or hear 
the Word of God. I thought I was quite good enough to 
be saved, and disliked, and often laughed at religious peo- 
ple. I was in great darkness ; I knew nothing of the way 
of salvation ; I never prayed, nor was sensible of the aw- 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



79 



ful danger of a prayerless state. I wished to maintain the 
character of a good servant, and was much lifted up when- 
ever I met with applause. I was tolerably moral and 
decent in my conduct, from motives of carnal and worldly 
policy ; but I was a stranger to God and Christ ; I neg- 
lected my soul ; and had I died in such a state, hell must, 
and would justly, have been my portion." 

" How long is it since you heard the sermon which you 
hope, through God's blessing, effected your conversion 1" 

" About five years ago." 

"How was it brought about ]" 

" It was reported that a Mr. , who was detained by 

contrary winds from embarking on board ship as chaplain 

to a distant part of the world, was to preach at church. 

Many advised me not to go, for fear he should turn my 
head ; as they said he held strange notions. But curiosity, 
and an opportunity of appearing in a new gown, which I 
was very proud of, induced me to ask leave of my mistress 
to go. Indeed, sir, I had no better motives than vanity 
and curiosity. Yet thus it pleased the Lord to order it for 
his own glory. 

" I accordingly went to church, and saw a great crowd 
of people collected together. I often think of the contrary 
states of my mind during the former and latter part of the 
service. For awhile, regardless of the worship of God, I 
looked around me, and was anxious to attract notice my- 
self. My dress, like that of too many gay, vain, and silly 
servant girls, was much above my station, and very dif- 
ferent from that which becomes an humble sinner, who 
has a modest sense of propriety and decency. The state 
of my mind was visible enough from the foolish finery of 
my apparel 



80 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" At length the clergyman gave out his text : 1 Be ye 
clothed with humility.' He drew a comparison between 
the clothing of the body with that of the soul. At a very 
early part of his discourse, I began to feel ashamed of my 
passion for fine dressing and apparel ; but when he came 
to describe the garment of salvation with which a Chris- 
tian is clothed, I felt a powerful discovery of the nakedness 
of my own soul. I saw that I had neither the humility 
mentioned in the text, nor any one part of the true Chris- 
tian character. I looked at my gay dress, and blushed 
for shame on account of my pride. I looked at the minis- 
ter, and he seemed to be as a messenger sent from heaven, 
to open rny eyes. I looked at the congregation, and won- 
dered whether any one else felt as I did. I looked at my 
heart, and it appeared full of iniquity. I trembled as he 
spoke, and yet I felt a great drawing of heart to the words 
he uttered. 

" He opened the riches of divine grace in God's method 
of saving the sinner. I was astonished at what I had been 
doing all the days of my life. He described the meek, 
lowly, and humble example of Christ ; I felt proud, lofty, 
vain, and self-consequential. He represented Christ as 
' Wisdom ;' I felt my ignorance. He held him forth as 
4 Righteousness I was convinced of my own guilt. He 
proved him to be 1 Sanctification ; ; I saw my corruption. 
He proclaimed him as 1 Redemption I felt my slavery to 
sin, and my captivity to Satan. He concluded with an 
animated address to sinners, in which he exhorted them to 
flee from the wrath to come, to cast off the love of out- 
ward ornaments, to put on Jesus Christ, and be clothed 
with true humility. 

" From that hour I never lost sight of the value of my 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



SI 



soul and the danger of a sinful state. I inwardly blessed 
God for the sermon, although my mind was in a state of 
great confusion. 

" The preacher had brought forward the ruling passion 
of my heart, which was pride in outward dress ; and by 
the grace of God it was made instrumental to the awaken- 
ing of my soul. Happy, sir, would it be, if many a poor 
girl, like myself, were turned from the love of outward 
adorning and putting on of fine apparel, to seek that which 
is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet 
spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. 

" The greatest part of the congregation, unused to such 
faithful and scriptural sermons, disliked and complained 
of the severity of the preacher : while a few, as I after- 
ward found, like myself, were deeply affected, and ear- 
nestly wished to hear him again. But he preached there 
no more. 

" From that time I was led, through a course of private 
prayer, reading, and meditation, to see my lost estate as 
a sinner, and the great mercy of God through Jesus Christ, 
in raising sinful dust and ashes to a share in the glorious 
happiness of heaven. And, O sir ! what a Saviour I have 
found ! He is more than I could ask or desire. In his 
fulness I have found all that my poverty could need : in 
his bosom I have found a resting-place from all sin and 
sorrow ; in his word I have found strength against doubt 
and unbelief." 

" Were you not soon convinced," I said, " that your 
salvation must be an act of entire grace on the part of 
God, wholly independent of your own previous works or 
deservings ]" 

" Dear sir, what were my works before I heard that ser- 



82 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



mon, but evil, carnal, selfish, and ungodly 1 The thoughts 
of my heart, from my youth upward, were only evil, and 
that continually. And my deservings, what were they, 
but the deservings of a fallen, depraved, careless soul, that 
regarded neither law nor gospel 1 Yes, sir, I immediately 
saw that if ever I was saved, it must be by the free mercy 
of God, and that the whole praise and honor of the work 
would be his from first to last." 

" What change did you perceive in yourself with respect 
to the world ?" 

" It appeared all vanity and vexation of spirit. I found 
it necessary to my peace of mind to come out from among 
them and be separate. I gave myself to prayer ; and 
many a happy hour of secret delight I enjoyed in commu- 
nion with God. Often I mourned over my sins, and some- 
times had a great conflict through unbelief, fear, tempta- 
tion to return back again to my old ways, and a variety of 
difficulties which lay in my way. But He who loved me 
with an everlasting love, drew me by his loving-kindness, 
showed me the way of peace, gradually strengthened me 
in my resolutions of leading a new life, and taught me, 
that while without him I could do nothing, I yet might 
do all things through his strength." 

" Did you not find many difficulties in your situation, 
owing to your change of principle and practice V 

" Yes, sir, every day of my life. I was laughed at by 
some, scolded at by others, scorned by enemies, and pitied 
by friends. I was called hypocrite, saint, false deceiver, 
and many more names which were meant to render 
me hateful in the sight of the world. But I esteemed 
the reproach of the cross an honor. I forgave and prayed 
for my persecutors, and remembered how very lately 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



S3 



I had acted the same part towards others myself. I 
thought also that Christ endured the contradiction of sin- 
ners ; and, as the disciple is not above his Master, I was 
glad to be in any way conformed to his sufferings." 

" Did you not then feel for your family at home 1" 

" Yes, that I did indeed, sir ; they were never out of my 
thoughts. I prayed continually for them, and had a long- 
ing desire to do them good. In particular I felt for my 
father and mother, as they were getting into years and 
were very ignorant and dark in matters of religion." 

"Ay," interrupted her mother, sobbing, "ignorant and 
dark, sinful and miserable we were, till this dear Betsy — 
— this dear Betsy — this dear child, sir, brought Christ 
Jesus home to her poor father and mother's house." 

" No, dearest mother, say rather, Christ Jesus brought 
your poor daughter home, to tell you what he had done for 
her soul, and, I hope, to do the same for yours." 

At this moment the Dairyman came in with two pails 
of milk hanging from the yoke on his shoulders. He had 
stood behind the half-opened door for a few moments, and 
heard the last sentences spoken by his wife and daughter. 

"Blessing and mercy upon her !" said he, "it is very 
true ; she left a good place of service on purpose to live 
with us that she might help us both in soul and body. Sir, 
don't she look very ill % I think, sir, we shan't have her 
here long." 

" Leave that to the Lord," said Elizabeth. " All our 
times are in his hand, and happy it is that they are. I am 
willing to go ; are not you willing, my father, to part with 
me into his hands, who gave me to you at first V 

" Ask me any question in the world but that," said the 
weeping father. 



84 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" I know," said she, " you wish me to be happy." 

" I do, I do," answered he : " let the Lord do with you 
and us as best pleases him." 

I then asked her, on what her present consolations 
chiefly depended, in the prospect of approaching death. 

" Entirely, sir, on my view of Christ. When I look at 
myself, many sins, infirmities, and imperfections cloud the 
image of Christ which I want to see in my own heart. 
But when I look at the Saviour himself, he is altogether 
lovely ; there is not one spot in his countenance, nor one 
cloud over all his perfections. 

" I think of his coming in the flesh, and it reconciles 
me to the sufferings of the body ; for he had them as well 
as I. I think of his temptations, and believe that he is 
able to succor me when I am tempted. Then I think of 
his cross, and learn to bear my own. I reflect on his death, 
and long to die unto sin, so that it may no longer have 
dominion over me. I sometimes think on his resurrection, 
and trust that he has given me a part in it, for I feel that 
my affections are set upon things above. Chiefly I take 
comfort in thinking of him as at the right hand of the 
Father, pleading my cause, and rendering acceptable even 
my feeble prayers, both for myself, and, as I hope, for my 
dear friends. 

" These are the views which, through mercy, I have of 
my Saviour's goodness ; and they have made me wish and 
strive in my poor way to serve him, to give myself up to 
him, and to labor to do my duty in that state of life into 
which it has pleased him to call me. 

" A thousand times I should have fallen and fainted, if 
he had not upheld me. I feel that I am nothing without 
him. He is all in all. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



35 



" Just so far as I can cast my care upon him, I find 
strength to do his will. May he give me grace to trust 
him till the last moment ! I do not fear death, because I 
believe that he has taken away its sting, And O ! what 
happiness beyond ! — Tell me, sir, whether you think I am 
right. I hope I am under no delusion. I dare not look 
for my hope in any thing short of the entire fulness of 
Christ. When I ask my own heart a question, I am afraid 
to trust it, for it is treacherous, and has often deceived 
me. But when I ask Christ, he answers me with pro- 
mises that strengthen and refresh me, and leave me no 
room to doubt his power and will to save. I am in his 
hands, and would remain there ; and I do believe that he 
will never leave nor forsake me, but will perfect the thing 
that concerns me. He loved me, and gave himself for 
me, and I believe that his gifts and callings are without 
repentance. In this hope I live, in this hope I wish to die.'' 

I looked around me, as she was speaking, and thought? 
" Surely this is none other than the house of God, and the 
gate of heaven.'' Every thing appeared neat, cleanly, and 
interesting. The afternoon had been rather overcast with 
dark clouds ; but just now the setting sun shone brightly 
and somewhat suddenly into the room. It was reflected 
from three or four rows of bright pewter plates and white 
earthen-ware, arranged on shelves against the wall ; it 
also gave brilliancy to a few prints of sacred subjects that 
hung there also, and served for monitors of the birth, bap- 
tism, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. 

A large map of Jerusalem, and an hieroglyphic of " the 
old and new man," completed the decorations on that side 
of the room. Clean as was the whitewashed wall, it was 
not cleaner than the rest of the place and its furniture. 

8 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



Seldom had the sun enlightened a house, where order and 
general neatness (those sure attendants of pious poverty) 
were more conspicuous. 

This gleam of setting sunshine was emblematical of 
the bright and serene close of this young Christian's de- 
parting season. One ray happened to be reflected from a 
little looking-glass upon her face. Amidst her pallid and 
decaying features there appeared a calm resignation, tri- 
umphant confidence, unaffected humility, and tender anx- 
iety, which fully declared the feelings of her heart. 

Some further affectionate conversation, and a short 
prayer, closed this interview. 

As I rode home by departing daylight, a solemn tran- 
quillity reigned throughout the scene. The gentle lowing 
of cattle, the bleating of sheep just penned in their folds, 
the humming of the insects of the night, the distant mur- 
mur of the sea, the last notes of the birds of day, and the 
first warbling^ of the nightingale, broke upon the ear, and 
served rather to increase than lessen the peaceful serenity 
of the evening, and its corresponding effects on my own 
mind. It invited and cherished just such meditations as 
my visit had already inspired. Natural scenery, when 
viewed in a Christian mirror, frequently affords very 
beautiful illustrations of divine truths. We are highly 
favored, when we can enjoy them, and at the same time 
draw near to God in them. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



87 



PART VII. 

It is a pleasing consideration, that, amidst the spiritual 
darkness which unhappily prevails in many parts of the 
land, God nevertheless has a people. It not unfrequently 
happens that single individuals are to be found, who, though 
very disadvantageously situated with regard to the ordi- 
nary means of grace, have received truly saving impres- 
sions, and through a blessing on secret meditation, read- 
ing, and prayer, are led to the closest communion with 
God, and become eminently devoted Christians. It is the no 
small error of too many professors of the present day, to 
overlook or undervalue the instances of this kind which 
exist. The religious profession and opinions of some have 
too much of mere machinery in their composition. If every 
wheel, pivot, chain, spring, cog, or pinion, be not exactly 
in its place, or move not precisely according to a favorite 
and prescribed system, the whole is rejected as unworthy 
of regard. But happily " the Lord knoweth them that are 
his ;" nor is the impression of his own seal wanting to 
characterize some, who, in comparative seclusion from the 
religious world, " name the name of Christ, and depart 
from iniquity." 

There are some real Christians so peculiarly circum- 
stanced in this respect, as to illustrate the Poet's beauti- 
ful comparison, 

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 

Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 



88 



THE DAEEYMAltfs DAUGHTER. 



Yet this was not altogether the case with the Dairy- 
man's daughter. Her religion had indeed ripened in se- 
clusion from the world, and she was intimately known but 
to few ; but she lived usefully, departed most happily, and 
left a shining track behind her. While I attempt a faint 
delineation of it, may I catch its influence, and become, 
through inexpressible mercy, a follower of " them, who 
through faith and patience inherit the promises !" 

From the time wherein I visited her, as described in 
my last paper, I considered her end as fast approaching. 
One day I received a hasty summons to inform me that she 
was dying. It was brought by a soldier, whose counte- 
nance bespoke seriousness, good sense, and piety. 

"1 am sent, sir, by the father and mother of Elizabeth 

W , at her own particular request, to say, how much 

they all wish to see you. She is going home, sir, very fast 
indeed,'' 

" Have you known her long V* 

" About a month, sir ; I love to visit the sick ! and hear- 
ing of her case from a person who lives close by our camp, 
I went to see her. I bless God that ever I did go. Her 
conversation has been very profitable to me.' 5 

" I rejoice," said I, a to see in you, as I trust, a brother 
soldier. Though we differ in our outward regimentals, I 
hope we serve under the same spiritual Captain. I w 7 ill 
go with you.' 5 

My horse was soon ready. My military companion 
walked by my side, and gratified me with very sensible 
and pious conversation. He related some remarkable tes- 
timonies of the excellent disposition of the Dairyman's 
daughter, as they appeared from recent intercourse which 
he had had with her* 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



89 



" She is a bright diamond, sir," said the soldier, 
" and will soon shine brighter than any diamond upon 
earth." 

We passed through lanes and fields, over hills and val- 
leys, by open and retired paths, sometimes crossing over, 
and sometimes following the windings of a little brook, 
which gently murmured by the road-side. Conversation 
beguiled the distance, and shortened the apparent time of 
our journey, till we were nearly arrived at the Dairyman's 
cottage. 

As we approached it, we became silent. Thoughts of 
death, eternity, and salvation, inspired by the sight of a 
house where a dying believer lay, filled my own mind, and, 
I doubt not, that of my companion also. 

No living object yet appeared, except the Dairyman's 
dog, keeping a kind of mute watch at the door ; for he did 
not, as formerly, bark at my approach. He seemed to 
partake so far of the feelings appropriate to the circum- 
stances of the family, as not to wish to give a hasty or 
painful alarm. He came forward to the little wicket-gate, 
then looked back at the house-door, as if conscious there 
was sorrow within. It was as if he wanted to say, " tread 
softly over the threshold, as you enter the house of mourn- 
ing ; for my master's heart is full of grief." 

The soldier took my horse and tied it up in a shed. A 
solemn serenity appeared to surround the whole place : it 
was only interrupted by the breezes passing through the 
large elm-trees, which stood near the house, and which 
my imagination indulged itself in thinking were plaintive 
sighs of sorrow. I gently opened the door ; no one ap- 
peared, and all was still silent. The soldier followed ; we 
came to the foot of the stairs. 

8* 



90 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" They are come," said a voice, which I knew to be the 
father's ; " they are come." 

He appeared at the top : I gave him my hand and said 
nothing. On entering the room above, I saw the aged 
mother and her son supporting the much-loved daughter and 
sister : the son's wife sat weeping in a window-seat, with 
a child on her lap ; two or three persons attended in the 
room to discharge any offi.ce which friendship or necessity 
might require. 

I sat down by the bedside. The mother could not 
w 7 eep, but now and then sighed deeply, as she alternately 
looked at Elizabeth and at me. The big tear rolled down 
the brother's cheek, and testified an affectionate regard. 
The good old man stood at the foot of the bed, leaning 
upon the post, and unable to take his eyes off the child 
from w T hom he was so soon to part. 

Elizabeth's eyes were closed, and as yet she perceived 
me not. But over the face, though pale, sunk, and hol- 
low, the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
had cast a triumphant calm. 

The soldier, after a short pause, silently reached out his 
Bible towards me, pointing with his finger at 1 Cor. xv. 
55, 56, 57. I then broke silence by reading the passage, 
" O death, where is thy sting ] O grave, where is thy 
victory ! the sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin 
is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the 
victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

At the sound of these words her eyes opened, and some- 
thing like a ray of divine light beamed on her countenance, as 
she said, 44 Victory, victory ! through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

She relapsed again, taking no further notice of any one 
present. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



91 



" God be praised for the triumph of faith !" said I. 
" Amen !" replied the soldier. 

The Dairyman's uplifted eye showed that the Amen 
was in his heart, though his tongue failed to utter it. 

A short struggling for breath took place in the dying 
young woman, which was soon over ; and then I said to 
her, 

" My dear friend, do you not feel that you are sup- 
ported r' 

" The Lord deals very gently with me," she replied. 

" Are not his promises now very precious to you]" 

" They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus." 

" Are you in much bodily pain V* 

" So little, that I almost forget it." 

" How good the Lord is I" 

" And how unworthy am I !" 

" You are going to see him as he is." 

" I think — -I hope- 1 believe that I am." 

She again fell into a short slumber. 

Looking at her mother, I said, " What a mercy to have 
a child so near heaven as yours is !" 

" And what a mercy," she replied, in broken accents, 
" if her poor old mother might but follow her there ! But, 
sir, it is so hard to part !" 

" I hope through grace by faith you will soon meet, to 
part no more : it will be but a little while." 

" Sir," said the Dairyman, " that thought supports me, 
and the Lord's goodness makes me feel more reconciled 
than I was." 

"Father— — mother," -said the reviving daughter, 

" he is good to me trust him, praise him evermore." 

" Sir," added she, in a faint voice, " I want to thank you 



92 



TS£ DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



for your kindness to me 1 want to ask a favor ; 

you buried my sister will you do the same for me V 9 

" All shall be as you wish, if God permit," I replied. 

" Thank you, sir, thank you ; 1 have another favor 

to ask — —When I am gone, remember my father and mo- 
ther. They are old, but I hope the good work is begun 

in their souls My prayers are heard Pray come and 

see them — I cannot speak much, but I want to speak for 
their sakes Sir, remember them." 

The aged parents now sighed and sobbed aloud, utter- 
ing broken sentences, and gained some relief by such an 
expression of their feelings. 

At length I said to Elizabeth, " Do you experience any 
doubts or temptations on the subject of your eternal 
safety ]" 

" No, sir ; the Lord deals very gently with me, and 
gives me peace. " 

" What are your views of the dark valley of death, now 
that you are passing through it V 

" It is not dark." 

" Why so 1" 

" My Lord is there, and he is my light and my salvation." 

" Have you any fears of more bodily suffering ?" 

" The Lord deals so gently with me ; I can trust him." 

Something of a convulsion came on. When it was past, 
she said again and again, 

" The Lord deals very gently with me. Lord, I am 

thine, save me- Blessed Jesus precious Saviour ■ 

His blood cleanseth from all sin Who shall separate 1 

His name is Wonderful Thanks be to God ■ 

He giveth us the victory, 1, even I, am saved— — 

O grace, mercy, and wonder Lord, receive my spirit ! 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



93 



Dear sir, dear father, mother, friends, I am going 

but all is well, well, well 

She relapsed again — We knelt down to prayer — The 
Lord was in the midst of us, and blessed us. 

She did not again revive while I remained, nor ever 
speak any more words which could be understood. She 
slumbered for about ten hours, and at last sweetly fell 
asleep in the arms of that Lord, who had dealt so gently 
with her. 

I left the house an hour after she had ceased to speak. 
I pressed her hand as I was taking leave, and said. " Christ 
is the resurrection and the life." She -gently returned the 
pressure, but could neither open her eyes, nor utter a reply. 

I never had witnessed a scene so impressive as this be- 
fore. It completely filled my imagination as I returned 
home. 

u Farewell, " thought I, "dear friend, till the morning 
of an eternal day shall renew our personal intercourse. 
Thou wast a brand plucked from the burning, that thou 
mightest become a star shining in the firmament of glory, 
I have seen thy light and thy good works, and will there- 
fore glorify our Father which is in heaven. I have seen, 
is thy example, what it is to be a sinner freely saved by 
grace. I have learned from thee, as in a living mirror, 
who it is that begins, continues, and ends the work of 
faith and love. Jesus is all in all : he will and shall be 
glorified. He won the crown, and alone deserves to wear 
it. May no one attempt to rob him of his glory ! He 
saves, and saves to the uttermost. Farewell, dear sister 
in the Lord. Thy flesh and thy heart may fail ; but God 
is the strength of thy heart, and shall be thy portion 
for ever. 



94 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



PART VIII. 

Who can conceive or estimate the nature of that change 
which the soul of a believer must experience at the mo- 
ment when, quitting its tabernacle of clay, it suddenly 
enters into the presence of God 1 If, even while " we see 
through a glass darkly," the views of divine love and wis- 
dom are so delightful to the eye of faith ; what must be 
the glorious vision of God, when seen face to face 3 If it 
be so valued a privilege here on earth to enjoy the com- 
munion of saints, and to take sweet counsel together with 
our fellow-travellers towards the heavenly kingdom ; what 
shall we see and know when we finally " come unto mount 
Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly 
Jerusalem, and to the innumerable company of angels, to 
the general assembly and church of the first-born which 
are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to 
the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the 
Mediator of the new covenant V- 

If, during the sighs and tears of a mortal pilgrimage, the 
consolations of the Spirit are so precious, and the hope 
full of immortality is so animating to the soul ; what heart 
can conceive, or what tongue utter its superior joys, when 
arrived at that state, where sighing and sorrow flee away, 
and the tears shall be wiped from every eye 1 ? 

Such ideas were powerfully associated together in my 
imagination, as I travelled onward to the house, where, in 
solemn preparation for the grave, lay the remains of the 
Dairyman's daughter. 

She had breathed her last shortly after the visit related 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



95 



in my former account. Permission was obtained, as before 
in the case of her sister, that I should perform the funeral 
service. Many pleasing yet melancholy thoughts were 
connected with the fulfilment of this task. I retraced the 
numerous and important conversations which I had held 
with her. But these could now no longer be maintained 
on earth. I reflected on the interesting and improving na- 
ture of Christian friendships, whether formed in palaces 
or in cottages : and felt thankful that I had so long en- 
joyed that privilege with the subject of this memorial. I 
then indulged a selfish sigh for a moment, on thinking that 
I could no longer hear the great truths of Christianity ut- 
tered by one who had drunk so deep of the waters of the 
river of life. But the rising murmur was checked by the 
animating thought ; " She is gone to eternal rest — could 
I wish her back again in this vale of tears V 9 

At that moment, the first sound of a toiling bell struck 
my ear. It proceeded from a village church in the valley 
directly beneath the ridge of a high hill, over which I had 
taken my way. — It was Elizabeth's funeral knell. 

The sound was solemn : and in ascending to the ele- 
vated spot over which I rode, it acquired a peculiar tone 
and character. Tolling at slow and regular intervals, (as 
was customary for a considerable time previous to the 
hour of burial.) the bell, as it were, proclaimed the blessed- 
ness of the dead who die in the Lord, and also the neces- 
sity of the living pondering these things, and laying them 
to heart. It seemed to say, " Hear my warning voice, thou 
son of man. There is but a step between thee and death. 
Arise, prepare thine house, for thou shalt die, and not 
live." 

The scenery was in unison with that tranquil frame of 



§6 THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTEK. 

mind which is most suitable for holy meditation, A rich 
and fruitful valley lay immediately beneath ; it was adorn- 
ed with cornfields and pastures, through which a small 
river winded in a variety of directions, and many herds 
grazed upon its banks. A fine range of opposite hills, 
covered with gr-:;:;: rocks, terminated with a cold sweep 
into the ocean, whose blue waves appeared at a distance 
beyond. Several villages, hamlets, and churches, were 
scattered in the valley. The noble mansions of the rich, 
and the lowly cottages of the poor, added their respective 
features to the landscape. The air was mild, and the de- 
clining sun occasioned a beautiful interchange of light and 
shade upon the sides of the hills. In the midst of this 
scene, the chief sound that arrested attention was the beD 
tolling for the funeral of the Dairyman's daughter. 

Do any of my readers inquire why I describe so mi- 
nutely the c ir : o m stances of prospect and s c enery which 
nay be •: ::;:;e::ed w;:l: the incidents I relate* My reply 
is, that the God of redemption is the God of creation like- 
wise ; and that we are taught in every part of the Word 
of God to unite the admiration of the beauties and wonders 
of nature to every other motive for devotion. When Da- 
vid considered the heavens, the work of God's fingers, the 
moon and the stars, which he has ordained, he was thereby 
led to the deepest humiliation of heart before his Maker. 
And when he viewed the sheep and the oxen and the 
beasts of the field, the fowl of the air and the fish of the 
sea, he was constrained to cry out, " O Lord, our Lord ! 
how excellent is thy name in all the earth : " 

I ana the Poor Man's Friend, and wish more especially 
that every poor laboring man should know how to connect 
the goodness of God in creation and providence with the 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



97 



unsearchable riches of his grace in the salvation of a sin- 
ner. And where can he learn this lesson more instruc- 
tively than in looking around the fields where his labor is 
appointed, and there tracing the handy-work of God in all 
that he beholds 1 Such meditations have often afforded 
me both profit and pleasure, and I wish my readers to 
share them with me. 

The Dairyman's cottage was rather more than a mile 
distant from the church. A lane, quite overshaded with 
trees and high hedges, led from the foot of the hill to his 
dwelling. It was impossible at that time to overlook the 
suitable gloom of such an approach to the house of 
mourning. 

I found, on my entrance, that several Christian friends, 
from different parts of the neighborhood, had assembled 
together, to pay their last tribute of esteem and regard to 
the memory of the Dairyman's daughter. Several of them 
had first become acquainted with her during the latter 
stage of her illness : some few had maintained an affec- 
tionate intercourse with her for a longer period. But all 
seemed anxious to manifest their respect for one who was 
endeared to them by such striking testimonies of true 
Christianity. 

I was requested to go into the chamber where the rela- 
tives and a few other friends were gone to take a last look 
at the remains of Elizabeth. 

It is not easy to describe the sensation which the mind 
experiences on the first sight of a dead countenance, 
which, when living, was loved and esteemed for the sake 
of that soul which used to give it animation. A deep and 
awful view of the separation that has taken place between 
the soul and body of the deceased, since we last beheld 

9 



AS 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



them, occupies the feelings ; our friend seems to be both 
near, and yet far off. The most interesting and valuable 
part is fled away : what remains is but the earthly perish- 
ing habitation, no longer occupied by its tenant. Yet the 
features present the accustomed association of friendly in- 
tercourse. For one moment, we could think them asleep. 
The next reminds us that the blood circulates no more ; 
the eye has lost its power of seeing, the ear of hearing, 
the heart of throbbing, and the limbs of moving. Quick- 
ly, a thought of glory breaks in upon the mind, and we 
imagine the dear departed soul to be arrived at its long- 
wished-for rest. It is surrounded by cherubim and 
seraphim, and sings the song of Moses and the Lamb 
on Mount Zion. Amid the solemn stillness of the cham- 
ber of death, imagination hears heavenly hymns chanted 
by the spirits of just men made perfect. In another mo- 
ment, the livid lips and sunken eye of the clay-cold corpse 
recall our thoughts to earth, and to ourselves again. And 
while we think of mortality, sin, death, and the grave, we 
feel the prayer rise in our bosom, " O let me die the death 
of the righteous, and let my last end be like his !" 

If there be a moment when Christ and salvation, death, 
judgment, heaven, and hell, appear more than ever to be 
momentous subjects of meditation, it is that which brings 
us to the side of a coffin containing the body of a departed 
believer. 

Elizabeth's features were altered, but much of her like- 
ness remained. Her father and mother sat at the head, 
her brother at the foot, of the coffin. The father silently 
and alternately looked upon his dead child, and then lifted 
up his eyes to heaven. A struggle for resignation to the 
will of God was manifest in his countenance ; while the 



THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 



99 



tears, rolling down his aged cheeks, at the same time de- 
clared his grief and affection. The poor mother cried and 
sobbed aloud, and appeared to be much overcome by the 
shock of separation from a daughter so justly dear to her. 
The weakness and infirmity of old age added a character 
to her sorrow, which called for much tenderness and com- 
passion. ) 

A remarkably decent-looking woman, who had the man- 
agement of the few simple though solemn ceremonies 
which the case required, advanced towards me, saying, 

" Sir, this is rather a sight of joy than of sorrow. Our 
dear friend, Elizabeth, finds it to be so, I have no doubt. 
She is beyond all sorrow : do you not think she is, sir V 9 

" After what I have known, and seen, and heard," I 
replied, " I feel the fullest assurance, that while her body 
remains here, her soul is with her Saviour in Paradise. 
She loved him here, and there she enjoys the pleasures 
which are at his right hand for evermore." 

" Mercy, mercy upon a poor old creature almost broken 
down with age and grief i — What shall I do 1 — Betsy's 
gone. My daughter's dead. — O my child ! I shall never 
see thee more. — God be merciful to me a sinner !" sobbed 
out the poor mother. 

" That last prayer, my dear good woman," said I, " will 
bring you and your child together again. It is a cry that 
has brought thousands to glory. It brought your daugh- 
ter there, and I hope it will bring you thither likewise. 
God will in no wise cast out any that come to him." 

" My dear," said the Dairyman, breaking the long silence 
he had maintained, " let us trust God with our child ; and 
let us trust him with our own selves. The Lord gave, 
and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 



100 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



the Lord ! We are old, and can have but a little further 

to travel in our journey, and then " he could say no 

more. 

The soldier, mentioned in my last paper, reached a 
Bible into my hand, and said, " Perhaps, sir, you would 
not object to reading a chapter before we go to the 
church]" 

I did so ; it w T as the fourteenth of the book of Job. A 
sweet tranquillity prevailed while I read it. Each minute 
that was spent in this funeral chamber seemed to be val- 
uable. I made a few observations on the chapter, and 
connected them with the case of our departed sister. 

" I am but a poor soldier," said our military friend, " and 
have nothing of this world's goods beyond my daily sub- 
sistence ; but I would not exchange my hope of salvation 
in the next world, for all that this world could bestow 
without it. What is wealth without grace 1 Blessed be 
God ! as I march about from one quarters to another, I 
still find the Lord wherever I go ; and thanks be to his 
holy name, he is here to-day in the midst of this company 
of the living and the dead. I feel that it is good to be here." 

Some other persons present began to take a part in our 
conversation, in the course of which the life and expe- 
rience of the Dairyman's daughter were brought forward 
in a very interesting manner. Each friend had something 
to relate in testimony of her gracious disposition, A 
young woman under twenty, who had hitherto been a very 
light and trifling character, appeared to be remarkably im- 
pressed by the conversation of that day ; and I have, since 
had ground to believe that divine grace then began to in- 
fluence her in the choice of that better part, which shall 
not be taken from her. 



THE DAIRYMAN S DAUGHTER. 



101 



What a contrast does such a scene as this exhibit, when 
compared with the dull, formal, unedifying, and often in- 
decent manner, in which funeral parties assemble in the 
house of death ! 

As we conversed, the parents revived. Our subject of 
discourse was delightful to their hearts. Their child 
seemed almost to be alive again, while we talked of her. 
Tearful smiles often brightened their countenances, as 
they heard the voice of friendship uttering their daugh- 
ter's praises ; or rather the praises of Him, who had made 
her a vessel of mercy, and an instrument of spiritual good 
to her family. 

The time for departing to the church was now at hand. 

I went to take my last look at the deceased. 

There was much written on her countenance. She 
had evidently died with a smile. It still remained, and 
spoke the tranquillity of her departed soul. According to 
the custom of the country, she was decorated with leaves 
and flowers in the coffin : she seemed as a bride gone 
forth to meet the bridegroom. These, indeed, were fading 
flowers, but they reminded me of that paradise whose 
flowers are immortal, and where her never-dying soul is 
at rest. 

I remembered the last words which I had heard her 
speak, and was instantly struck with the happy thought, 
that " death was indeed swallowed up in victory." 

As I slowly retired, I said, inwardly, " Peace, my hon- 
ored sister, be to thy memory and to my soul, till we meet 
in a better world." 

In a little time the procession formed : it was rendered 
the more interesting by the consideration of so many that 
followed the coffin being persons of a devoted and spiritual 
9% 



102 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



character. The distance was rather more than a mile. I 
resolved to continue with and go before them, as they 
moved slowly onward. 

Immediately after the body came the venerable father 
and mother,* bending with age, and weeping through much 
affliction of heart. Their appearance was calculated to 
excite every emotion of pity, love, and esteem. The other 
relatives followed them in order, and the several attendant 
friends took their places behind. 

After we had advanced about a hundred yards, my med- 
itation was unexpectedly and most agreeably interrupted 
by the friends who attended beginning to sing a funeral 
psalm. Nothing could be more sweet or solemn. The 
well-known effect of the open air in softening and blend- 
ing the sounds of music, was here peculiarly felt. The 
road through which we passed was beautiful and roman- 
tic. It lay at the foot of a hill, which occasionally re- 
echoed the voices of the singers, and seemed to give faint 
replies to the notes of the mourners. The funeral knell 
was distinctly heard from the church tower, and greatly 
increased the effect which this simple and becoming ser- 
vice produced. 

We went by several cottages : a respectful attention 
was universally observed as we passed : and the counte- 
nances of many proclaimed their regard for the departed 
young woman. The singing was regularly continued, 

* The mother died not long after her daughter ; and 1 have good reason to 
believe that God was merciful to her, and took her to himself. 

An interesting account of a visit recently made to the Dairyman's cottage, 
appeared in the Christian Guardian, for October, 1813.— A still more recent 
visit to the good old Dairyman (who still lives, at the age of 82) has been 
made by the author of this narrative. (June, 1814.) 

The good old Dairyman died in 1816. — His end was eminently Christian. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



103 



with occasional intervals of about five minutes, during our 
whole progress. 

I cannot describe the state of my own mind as peculiarly- 
connected with this solemn singing. I was reminded of 
elder times and ancient piety. I wished the practice 
more frequent. It seems well calculated to excite and 
cherish devotion and religious affections. 

Music, when judiciously brought into the service of re- 
ligion, is one of the most delightful, and not least effica- 
cious means of grace. I pretend not too minutely to 
conjecture as to the actual nature of those pleasures which, 
after the resurrection, the reunited body and soul will 
enjoy in heaven ; but I can hardly persuade myself that 
melody and harmony will be wanting, when even the sense 
of hearing shall itself be glorified. 

We at length arrived at the church. Looking upward, 
as I drew near the church, I observed a dial on the wall. 
The sun's declining rays directed the shadow to the even- 
ing hour. As I passed underneath this simple but solemn 
monitor, I was reminded of the lapse of time, the uncer- 
tainty of life, and sure approach of eternity. I thought 
with David, " We are strangers before thee, and sojourn- 
ers, as were all our fathers ; our days on the earth are as 
a shadow, and there is none abiding." " Lord, so teach 
us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto 
wisdom." 

The service was heard with deep and affectionate atten- 
tion. When we came to the grave, the hymn which 
Elizabeth had selected was sung. All was devout, simple, 
animating. We committed our dear sister's body to the 
earth, in full hope of a joyful resurrection from the dead. 

Thus was the veil of separation drawn for a season. 



104 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



She is departed and no more seen. But she will be seen 
on the right hand of her Redeemer at the last day ; and 
will again appear to his glory, a miracle of grace and mon- 
ument of mercy. 

My reader, rich or poor, shall you and I appear there 
likewise 1 Are we " clothed with humility," and arrayed 
in the wedding garment of a Redeemer's righteousness 1 
Are we turned from idols to serve the living God ? Are 
we sensible of our own emptiness, and therefore flying to 
a Saviour's fulness to obtain grace and strength ? Do we 
indeed live in Christ, and on him, and by him, and with 
him ? Is he our all in all 1 Are we " lost and found ?" 
" dead and alive again V* 

My poor reader, the Dairyman's daughter was a poor 
girl, and the child of a poor man. Herein thou resemblest 
her : but dost thou resemble her, as she resembled Christ? 
Art thou made rich by faith ? Hast thou a crown laid up 
for thee ? Is thine heart set upon heavenly riches 1 If 
not, read this story once more, and then pray earnestly for 
like precious faith. 

But if, through grace, thou dost love and serve the Re 
deemer that saved the Dairyman's daughter, grace, peace, 
and mercy be with thee ! The lines are fallen unto thee 
in pleasant places : thou hast a goodly heritage. Press 
forward in duty, and wait upon the Lord, possessing thy 
soul in holy patience. Thou hast just been with me to the 
grave of a departed believer. Now " go thy way, till the 
end be ; for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the 
end of the days." 



APPENDIX. 



The first two letters were addressed by the Dairyman's 
daughter to her father. I of course omit those passages 
which are strictly personal and private. 



LETTER I. 

TO MR. JOSEPH WALLBRIDGE. 

Southampton, Feb. 23, 1797 
My dear and honored Father, 

5fC 5fC % SfC *fi 

And now, my dear father, I do not know what to say 
to change the scene. I suppose you were a little alarmed 
the other day, when the fleet of colliers came in, and they 
were taken for French. It was reported here that they 
were landed at several places ; and we should have soon 
been over in the island for shelter from them : as if by 
that means we could "flee from the wrath to come," or 
stay the hand of an almighty and justly avenging God, 
who, for the sins of mankind, has sent his judgments 
abroad in the earth. And even now we are ready to say 



106 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



to that God who hath so long withheld the sword of ven- 
geance from destroying us, and still extends his everlasting 
arms of mercy to save us — "Depart from us" — for we 
desire not the knowledge of him. But I hope, my dear 
father, that the Lord will have mercy on us, and bring us 
out of that gross darkness into his marvellous light, and 
set our feet on that rock that is higher than we are. But 
we are informed by the word of God, that if we would 
have all these blessings bestowed on us, we must fix all 
our hopes and our faith on the blessed Lamb of God that 
was slain to redeem the fallen children of Adam. For 
"as in Adam all died, so shall all" true believers "in 
Christ be made alive" to God : and then, my dear father, 
we may say, 

" Prisoners of hope, lift up your heads, 
The day of liberty draws near ; 
Jesus, who on the serpent treads, 
Shall soon in your behalf appear: 
The Lord will to his temple come, 
Prepare your hearts to make him room." 

My dear father, I hope that God will not suffer sickness 
or death ever to surprise us unawares, or find us in a state 
unprepared. 

****** 

Please to give my duty to my dear and tender mother, 
and accept the same yourself, and love to dear brothers 
and sisters ; and may the blessed Spirit of God be very 
powerful in all your hearts to root out every evil. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



107 



LETTER II. 

Southampton, April 11, 1797. 

My dear Father, 

I have been silent longer than I should, had my dear 
sister written before ; but, as I know all things are guided 
and governed by Him whom my soul loveth, I wait patiently 
his appointed time. O, my dear father, it is good to trust in 
him, to call upon him, to honor his holy name. O, if you 
have not tasted how good and gracious the Lord is, then 
turn and seek him while he may be found. None ever 
sought his glorious face in vain ; and those " that come 
unto me (saith the dear Lamb of God) I will in no wise 
cast out." No : his tender love, pity, and compassion 
never fail to poor sinners. No : though my dear mother 
and father have lived to near the time that my God hath 
said shall be the age of man ; and ye have still been sin- 
ning and grieving, and hiding, as it were, your faces from 
that God who is still pursuing you with his love and mercy, 
yea, even the blessed Jesus, who is still making interces- 
sion for sinners at his Father's right hand. And 

" When justice bared the sword 

To cut the rig-tree down, 
The pity of my Lord 

Cried, let it still alone : 
The Father mild, inclined his ear, 
And spares us yet another year." 

But remember, my dear friends, his blessed words : 
"My Spirit shall not always strive with man :" and, "ex- 



108 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



cept. you are born again, ye cannot inherit the kingdom of 
heaven:'' and if you are not washed in the precious blood 
of that dear Lamb of God, you can have no part with him ; 
and if his Spirit does not " bear witness with your spirit" 
that your are born of God, you are still in your sins, and 
strangers to the blood that bought you on the tree. Oh ! 
my daily prayer to God is, that he will " turn you, and so 
shall you be turned." Oh ! the dear Redeemer still waits 
to be gracious ; he is ever ready to pardon your sins, and 
seal it with his precious blood; he is ever calling, "Come 
unto me, all ye that do labor and are heavy laden" with 
the burden of your sins, "and I will give you rest." Then 
I entreat you, my dear friends, in the name of the most 
high God, that ye turn and lay hold of the ever-blessed 
Jesu as your shield of faith, and he will arm you with the 
whole armor of God. But remember this : though God is 
full of love and mercy, yet he will be sought unto, Then 
draw nigh unto God in secret prayer, and God will draw 
nigh unto your precious souls, and that to bless them ; and 
will say unto you, Believe on me, " my grace is sufficient 
for you," I will cleanse you in my precious blood ; and 
then shall your leprosy be healed, and you shall return 
without spot. And then you must watch and pray to him 
continually to keep you clean. Oh ! he is always more 
ready to hear than we are to pray, and more ready to give 
than we to ask. Remember, my dear father, that the lan- 
guage of every prayerless and unconverted soul is, "Depart 
from me, O God ;" for we desire not the knowledge of the 
Most High. Then put off the evil day no longer, lest you 
should hear him say, who is willing and able to save to the 
uttermost those that come unto him, "I have stretched out 
my hand all the day long, and no man regarded." And 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



109 



* behold I knock at the door of every man's heart, and to 
him that openeth unto me I will come in, and sup with 
him, and he with me." My dear father, those are blessed 
and comfortable words ; and I am his living witness, and I 
" set to my seal" that Jesus is true. O the happy state 
of the children of God ! Now I ask and receive : I seek 
and I find him whom my soul loveth ; yea, I always find 
I have a very near access, through his blessed intercession, 
to supplicate the throne of grace ; and now I can say, 

" Before the throne my surety stands, ; 
My name is written on his hands 

and now I am so filled with the peace and love of God, 
that I can lift up my soul and say, 

" My God, I know, 1 feel thee mine, 
And will not quit my claim. 
Till all I have is lost in thine, 
And all renewed I am ;" 



"Where'er I am, where'er I move, 
I meet the object of my love." 

The Lord doth so strengthen my faith in him, that I find 
all his promises stand engaged to make me blessed. O 
may God pardon what his poor unworthy dust has written, 
through ignorance, which is not agreeable to his most 
blessed will, which I will ever seek to fulfil ! 

* % % ^ Hi * 

I have so little taste for the conversation of this world, 
that it is very unpleasant to think on it. My sister's love 
and duty to all. Mr. B. will be in the island soon, please 
God, and then you are to write to her. Desire my brother 
to write too, and direct her to the house of God in Bath, 

10 



110 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



for she is still walking in darkness, and is ignorant of it 
O may the Lord be graciously pleased to bring you all into 
his marvellous light, that you may praise him in time and 
eternity : then strive to enter in at the strait gate. . . . 
If the Lord shall please to spare me, I hope to see you ere 
long ; if not in this world, in that where we shall bask in 
unutterable bliss. My dear friends, take not this advice 
amiss from your unworthy child ; it is the command of my 
blessed Lord, "when thou art converted, remember thy 
brethren :" and I daily take up my cross and follow him 
whithersoever he goeth : and I pray God enable you to 
do the same. O how should I rejoice and praise my God 
to see you enabled, through the inspiration of the Spirit 
of the Most High, to answer this ill- written letter ! — 
Farewell, in the Lord, dear friends. 



The third letter is to her sister. 

LETTER III, 

Coices, October 14, 1798. 

My dear Sister, 

I have not had a convenient opportunity to write till 
now : I hope you have not been unhappy at my long si- 
lence. Consider that God is my keeper, therefore "I shall 
lack no manner of thing that is good." I entreat you to 
commend the keeping of your soul, spirit, and body, to the 
Lord, for he is a promise-making, and a true and faithful 
promise-keeping God. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



Ill 



"Then let me commend my Saviour to you, 
The publican's friend and advocate too." 

My dear, I say that God is my keeper : you will say, 
he is yours — it is true, for " in him we all live, move, and 
have our being;" but I can say with Job, "I know that 
my Redeemer liveth," and 

" He is now pleading his merits and death, 
And still interceding for sinners beneath :" 

and he is waiting to be gracious to you, for he is long- 
suffering and kind, plenteous in goodness ; his love and 
mercy know no end nor bounds, and his compassions fail 
not : now, my dear, 

" Ready for you the angels wait, 
To triumph in your blest estate : 
Tuning their harps, they long to praise 
The wonders of redeeming grace." 

O my dear sister, search the scriptures diligently ; pray 
to God earnestly ; for in so doing, you will find that he is 
a God " nigh at hand, and not afar off." He has promised 
to be found of those that seek him ; for none ever sought 
his face in vain, neither did ever any trust in him, and was 
deceived. O my dear sister, if you did but believe how 
willing God is to reveal his Son in your heart, the hope of 
glory ! O how would your soul be ravished, if Christ would 
appear to you the altogether lovely, and the first among 
ten thousand ! Then could you say those blessed words, 

« My soul, through my Redeemer's love, 
Saved from the second death I feel: 
My eyes from fears of dark despair, 
My feet from falling into hell. 



112 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



" Wherefore my feet to him shall run. 
My eyes on his perfections gaze, 
My soul shall live for God alone, 
And all within me shout his praise." 

I entreat you to read the word of God carefully, for in it 
is eternal life. All the promises there stand engaged to 
make you blessed, if you truly repent, and forsake your 
sins, and turn to God with full purpose of heart, and fully 
believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and he will save you 
from your sins, with a present and everlasting salvation : 
for he says, " Only believe, and thou shalt be saved." We 
should receive the word of God as if it was the awful 
voice of God from heaven. It will be awful to the wicked 

and unconverted : O may the Lord quicken your 

dead soul 

" with life divine, 

And make you in his image shine." 

O may you feel the kindlings of love divine shed abroad 
in your heart ! Farewell in the Lord, my dear sister. 



The following little narrative seems to have been in- 
tended for her own private use. It is apparently left un- 
finished. 

November 30, 1800. 

Elizabeth Wallbridge, born July 29, 1770. 

I feel my mind more composed when writing, and more 
free from wandering thoughts, than at any other time ; for 
I have little retirement, and when I have, it is seldom free 
from disturbances, so that I am almost continually conver- 
sant with the world. The Lord knoweth what a burden 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



113 



it is to my mind, and how impatient I have been. May 
the Lord pardon his unfaithful, unprofitable servant, and 
sanctify me throughout, soul, spirit, and body, and plunge 
me in the Godhead's deepest sea, that I maybe lost in his 
immensity. O glorious hope of perfect love ! may it ever 
fill and lift my ravished spirit up to things above ; there I 
shall for ever love. 

I thought I would just set down, as the Lord is pleased 
to give me time and strength, a few of his particular mer- 
cies and favors as I can recollect. He has abounded in 
love and mercy to me : O that I had made him all the re- 
turns that love could make, by giving myself a sacrifice 
daily unto him ! But now I have to lament my short- 
comings, and to apply to the "blood of sprinkling" which 
speaks my sins forgiven, and purifies my soul and 
makes it meet for heaven. O what a precious Saviour 
have I found ! O that I could make him known to all 
mankind, that all may turn and taste the riches of his 
grace ! At present I am so very weak in body and mind, 
that I can recollect but very little : it has been decaying 
near four years ; but in the Lord Jehovah is my everlast- 
ing strength, and whoever relies on him shall never be 
ashamed, and shall be freed from all slavish fears. 

I seemed to have some fear of God, and love to him 
from my childhood. His restraining grace kept me from 
falling into great and open sin, and gave me such a love to 
truth and uprightness, that I seemed to hate every false 
way, word, and work, in myself and others. I remember 
when I went to school, one of my playmates that I was 
very fond of, used to take every opportunity to get money 
from her mother unknown to her, and bring to school, and 
buy all kinds of little toys, and then freely give me and 

10* 



114 



THE DAIRYMAN *S DAU&HTEB. 



anotner or two an equal share with herself. But O how 
did the Spirit of the Lord strive with me at that time, and 
convince me of the evil, so that I had no peace of mind 
whilst I partook of the sin, and yet I had not strength to 
resist it. It was so on my mind that I ought to make her 
fault known, not to conceal it and partake of part. I could 
see it a great evil in the person that sold her the things, 
whose daughter took part, and, I believe, knew as well as 
I did how she came by it ; but I never revealed it, though 
I always bore it on my mind with abhorrence. What a 
sad thing to yield to sin, against such clear convictions ! 

I was early taught a form of prayer, which I continued 
to repeat in a careless manner when I was laid down in 
bed, but very often I fell asleep before I said them half. 
But, blessed be God, he still spared me, and often drew 
me to himself by the cords of love : for at an early age he 
drew me to secret prayer, where I often felt the kindlings 
of his love ; but had none to set me forward, so that I 
often neglected this duty ; but when alone, I have often 
felt great sweetness in it. I believe if I had heard the 
Gospel preached, I should have been very early devoted 
to that God I now love and adore. But I do not yet love 
him as he has promised I shall, with all my loving heart, 
when sin is all destroyed, O happy moment, how I long 
for it ! 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



115 



The last document is 

HER WILL. 

My dear father, and mother, and brothers — If it should 
please the Lord to spare you all, till after my decease, I 
take this opportunity to set down what I simply desire, if 
it be the Lord's will, and agreeable to you all. If I die 
under this roof, it will be best, as soon as I am dead, to 

have my coffin made ; let Mr. make it, if it is quite 

agreeable : and then I can be carried down stairs, not to 
disturb you, or break your rest. And there the angels of 
my covenant-making and promise-keeping God will watch 
over me and protect my sleeping dust ; so that you need not 
fear any evil spirit, for they will have done with me for 
ever, they will never assault me any more ; I shall then, 
through Christ, who hath loved me with an everlasting 
love, gain the glorious victory over all the principalities 
and powers of darkness ; for they know that I am a re- 
deemed captive from their power, though they cease not 
to tempt me to return to my former customs, that I may 
be again in bondage to fear : but glory be given to God, 
his grace is sufficient for me ; hitherto he hath brought 
me safe through, and I know he will save to the end. May 
I lift up my heart to him and cry — O thou 

"Fairer than the sons of men. 
Do not let me turn again." 

Let my coffin be very plain, neat, and strong, made to 
cover very close. Let it be made white inside and out, if 
no trouble ; and for my shroud a little wool will do, if you 



116 



THE DAIRYMAN^ DAUGHTER. 



like it : it will be less expense ; for it will all turn to dust* 
I care not who you ask to my funeral ; I want no form of 
young people, I had rather have those that love God, that 
they may rejoice over me with angels above, and praise a 
God of love. [She then names several friends whom she 
desired to he present, and proceeds.] Let them all meet 
together that can or will come . . . and I trust they will 
feel the Lord powerfully present in the midst to bless 
every waiting soul, and reveal the secrets of his love. Mr. 
Richmond, or the minister of Newchurch, which you 
please ; I love them both, because they love God : for 
" God is love ;" and his love constrains us to love one 
another Do not be afraid of disturbing the peace- 
ful dead in singing praises to God and the Lamb who hath 
redeemed me from sin. It may be, my happy spirit may 
be permitted to join with listening angels who catch the 
approving sound, while all heaven's host cry — a child is 
born into our world above. 

Let these hymns be sung : the 37th, " Hosanna to 
Jesus on high;" the 35th, " 'Tis finished, 'tis done ;" the 
33rd, 44 Ah lovely appearance of death ;" the 50th, in the 
large book, " Hark, a voice divides the sky." If the 
preacher please, for the glory of God, and the good of the 
living, let him preach a sermon from Psalm cxvi. 15 — 
" Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
saints :" and may the word be atttended with power ; a 
divine energy and the quickening influence of the Spirit 
of God rest upon the ministers and the hearers, that glory 
may be given to God, and great good done in his precious 
name ; that his saints that love him may be strengthened 
and refreshed and built up in their most holy faith ; that 
they may go on their way rejoicing in the strength of the 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



117 



Lord, from grace to grace, till glory end what grace be- 
gan ; that they may be fully prepared to meet death with 
Christian courage. And may all my dear friends follow 
on to know the Lord, and experimentally to feel the saving 
power of divine grace in each of their hearts, that they 
may give glory to God, and triumphantly quit the stage 
of mortality, shouting Victory through the blood of the 
Lamb that was slain, who now is ascended on high for ever 
to reign. But I would have all to remember, if they have 
never yet been convinced of their lost and miserable state 
by nature, that it is high time for them to awake out of 
sleep, and cry mightily to God to show them their danger, 
and save them from destruction, For without faith and 
prayer you cannot be saved. Then come like the humble 
publican, with a feeling sense of your sins, and true faith 
in his merits to atone for your sins, and cleanse your 
guilty souls, and you will be sure to find mercy, pardon, 
and peace, and grace to help you in every time of need. 
When I was brought home, I was in great hopes I should 
see a great change ; but I have been painfully disappoint- 
ed to the present moment, which often fills my heart with 
grief and sorrow, to see sinners so unconcerned upon the 
brink of death. But if I am never permitted to see that 
happy change, I hope you will experience it, and meet me 
in glory ; there we shall part no more. [ The remainder 
is occupied with the distribution of her little property > con- 
sisting almost entirely of wearing apparel^ among her rela- 
tives.] 



118 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



The following letters were addressed to the Dairyman's 
daughter by Mr. Richmond. The first is merely a short 
note, but it is inserted as a characteristic illustration of 
the style in which he addressed her. 



LETTER I. 

It has pleased God, my Christian sister, for several 
weeks past, to keep me in a state of sickness, from which 
soon, by his goodness, I hope to be relieved. I am at 
present unable to say half what I wish to you ; but lest 
you should suspect me of inattention to your friendly and 
welcome letter, I write these few lines to say, that you 
shall either hear from me at length, or see me shortly. 
May God support you through your trial of ill-health ; and 
the nearer you approach the other world, whenever it be 
God's appointed time, may you be more and more heaven- 
ly-minded. — Peace be multiplied to you. I pray for you, 
and beg you to know 

How faithfully I am, 

Yours in Christ, 

L. Richmond. 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



119 



LETTER II. 

You may be assured, upon the faith of one who loves 
God, and would fain serve and obey him, that you are not 
out of my mind, though I have been prevented from doing 
myself the pleasure of calling upon you. I have also de- 
layed writing till now from an almost daily expectation of 
coming your way ; but as it has happened otherwise, I 
now acknowledge the receipt of your last letter, and rejoice 
at the sight of words dictated by a spirit of godliness, 
humility, and love. In a perverse and adulterous genera- 
tion, like the present one, what can be so cheering to the 
soul as converse with those who really know the Lord, 
and love him because he hath first loved them 2 I am 
well convinced of the propriety and force of your advice 
with respect to my conduct, and that of the ministers of 
the gospel in general. God grant such a weak and un- 
profitable servant as I am, may find grace and ability to 
conduct myself as becomes a faithful laborer in the vine- 
yard ! For who can do it of his own strength ? What 
are the natural powers of sinful man to work out the 
righteousness of God I To the Spirit of Christ, which 
changeth and strengthened the inner man, we must at- 
tribute all : to him be honor, glory, and praise in all the 
churches, now and evermore. 

I have read your two books, and find much profit in them 
both. It appears that the life of Madame Guion should be 
attended to with some caution, which Mr. Wesley very 
frequently draws our observation to in his short notes at 
the bottom of the pages. She was sometimes inrluenced 



120 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



by notions which had not a sufficiently strong scriptural 
foundation, and therefore in these things should not be set 
as a pattern ; but her love of God, and her anxiety to be 
for ever joined to him, are lovely and interesting-. The 
true rule for discerning the motions and operation of the 
blessed Spirit within us, is to compare our feelings with 
those ways of holiness, happy fruits of the Spirit, which 
the apostle describes : let every thing be referred to this 
as a standard, and we never shall be mistaken. May God 
so guide and direct you and me to all goodness, that our 
works may glorify— not ourselves, none but Jesus can do 
that, — but our Father which is in heaven. May numbers 
have reason, through the mercy of God, to bless our 
memory : and may the seed which in my ministerial ca- 
pacity I am commissioned to sow, to plant, and to water, 
receive its due increase from God. I assure you this lies 
much at my heart, and occupies much of my thoughts ; 
seeing and "knowing the terrors of the Lord," I would 
"persuade men" with all truth, earnestness, and sin- 
cerity, to flee from the wrath to come, and throw them- 
selves and their sins at the foot of the cross, with 
true repentance and faith. Faith is the hand which we 
stretch forth to receive the benefits of Christ's blood ; it 
is the soul of the spiritual life, and the grand distinguish- 
ing characteristic of the true Christian from the false ; 
it is the touchstone of Christianity ; the burning coal 
w T hich sets fire to the sacrifice on the altar ; the sun 
which enlightens the wilderness of the world ; the lantern 
which guides our feet through the valley of the shadow of 
death. True faith never can be separated from hope and 
love ; they are three lovely sisters who take up their 
dwelling in the heart when it becomes the temple of the 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



121 



Holy Ghost ; their parent is God, and their offspring 
righteous works : how do they shine forth in the midst of 
a vain and wicked world, like a candle set upon a hill in a 
dark and gloomy night ! May their operations spread 
wider and wider over the face of the world, and may the 
church of God increase in their fruits, till at length the 
happy time shall arrive when the kingdoms of this world 
shall become the kingdom of the Lord and his anointed. 
God hasten so blessed a period ! 

I was much shocked at the sudden death of my neigh- 
bor . Such unprepared calls ought to operate upon 

those that are left behind, as salutary warnings : alive and 
healthy this morning, who knoweth that this very night 
our souls shall not be required of us ] Let us be on the 
watch, and endeavor to make others so, for we "know 
neither the day nor the hour" of our Master's coming. I 
am told that his successor has given some strong calls to 
duty and attentiveness in religion, which I hope in God 
will prove efficacious. He appears in conversation very 
much in earnest, and seems steady and persevering ; but 
I have only seen him twice. In that parish you well know 
how much reformation is wanted. Alas ! into what place 
can we go where it is not wanting ] Iniquity triumphs, 
and presumption darkens the very heavens with her wide- 
spreading wings ; blasphemy, covetousness, and unclean- 
ness, abound and prosper ; men are lovers of pleasure, 
rather than lovers of God. Does not the world go just as 
Satan would have itl Sometimes he will even suggest 
to the faithful that their endeavors are in vain, and he 
tempts to inactivity and sloth ; but, blessed be God, the 
Bible is in our hands, and there we find arguments, and 
strength, and consolation, and admonition, and precept, 

11 



122 



THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



and commandment, and encouragement to proceed in the 
mighty task of beating down the strongholds of iniquity, 
and destroying the works of the devil Even though "the 
overflowings of ungodliness may make us afraid," God 
worketh the good cause, and in the end it shall prosper. 
The church shall never fail, nor shall the gates of hell 
prevail against it. Your health, I hear, is weak : may God 
strengthen the inner man as he thinks fit to weaken the 
outer ; may his kingdom rule in your heart, though the 
outward fortifications crumble to dust. If it please God 
to shorten the span of your life, I trust you will meet your 
Redeemer with peace and joy, and that you will employ 
the rest of that time which is appointed you on earth in 
promoting the cause of righteousness, in combating the 
artifices of Satan, resisting the ways of ungodliness, con- 
versing with God in fervent prayer and holy meditation, 
contemplating his redeeming love, and hungering after 
higher and higher degrees of virtue. May the prospect 
of a heavenly inheritance keep you alive to holiness and 
gratitude, and in looking upon the world around, remember 
that the true spirit of the gospel teaches us to love the 
sinner whilst we hate the sin. — Grace, mercy, and peace 
be multiplied upon you from God and the Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

Believe me to be 

Yours, with Christian regard, 

L. Richmond, 

THE END OF THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. 



THE 



NEGRO SERVANT. 



PART I. 

If a map of the world, instead of being colored, as is 
usual, with many gay and brilliant tints, in order to distin- 
guish its various continents, kingdoms, and islands from each 
other, were to be painted with darker or brighter hues cor- 
responding with the spiritual character of the inhabitants, 
what a gloomy aspect would be presented to the eye of 
the Christian geographer, by the greater portion of the 
habitable globe ! — How dark would be the shade thus cast 
over the larger districts of the vast continents of Asia and 
America ! and what a mass of gloom would characterize 
the African quarter of the world ! 

Here and there a bright spot would mark the residence 
of a few missionary laborers devoting themselves to God, 
and scattering the rays of Christian light among the sur- 
rounding heathen : but over the greater part " the black- 
ness of darkness" would emblematically describe the iron 
reign of Mahometan superstition and Pagan idolatry. 

The Christian prays that God would " have respect unto 



124 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



the covenant ; for the dark places of the earth are full of 
the habitations of cruelty." He hopes to see the nations 
"open their eyes, and turn from darkness to light, and 
from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive 
forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which 
are sanctified by faith." 

The curse originally pronounced on the descendants of 
Ham, has, in a variety of respects, both temporal and 
spiritual, been awfully fulfilled : — " A servant of servants 
shall he be." Slavery, as well of mind as body, has been 
continued amongst the Africans through their generations 
in a manner which at once proves the truth of the divine 
prediction, and yet calls aloud for the ardent prayers and 
active exertions of Christians in their behalf. The time 
will come when the heathen shall be proved to have been 
given to Christ " for an inheritance, and the uttermost 
parts of the earth for his possession." The degraded 
Hottentot, and the poor benighted Negro, will look from 
the ends of the earth unto Jesus, and be saved. " Many 
go to and fro, and knowledge shall thereby be increased." 
The Redeemer " shall see of the travail of his soul, and 
be satisfied," in beholding the gathering together, not only 
of the outcasts of Israel, that are ready to perish ; but of 
churches and people from all the tongues, and kindreds, 
and nations of the earth. In the day of his appearing, the 
sons of Africa will vie with their brethren of the North, 
and the West, and the East, in resounding the praises of 
God their Saviour, from one end of the earth to the other. 

In the mean time we rejoice in every occasional in- 
stance of the love and power of God in effecting the con- 
version of some, who appear as the first fruits of that har- 
vest which shall hereafter so fruitfully grow up, to the 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



125 



honor of Christ and the blessedness of his redeemed 
people. 

The following narrative of real facts may, perhaps, 
illustrate the importance of the foregoing remarks. 

During a residence of some years' continuance in the 
neighborhood of the sea, an Officer of the navy called 
upon me, and stated that he had just taken a lodging in 
the parish for his wife and children ; and had a Xegro, 
who had been three years in his service. " The lad is a 
deserving fellow," said the Officer, " and he has a great 
desire to be baptized : I have promised him to ask you to 
do it, if you have not any objections." 

" Does he know anything," replied I, " of the principles 
of the Christian religion ]" 

" O yes, I am sure he does," answered the Captain ; 
" for he talks a great deal about it in the kitchen, and often 
gets laughed at for his pains ; but he takes it all very pa- 
tiently." 

" Does he behave well as your servant !" 

" Yes, that he does ; he is as honest and civil a fellow 
as ever came on board ship, or lived in a house." 

" Was he always so well behaved ?" 

"No," said the Officer ; " when I first had him, he was 
often very unruly and deceitful ; but for the last two years 
he has been quite like another creature." 

" Well, sir, I shall be very glad to see him, and think it 
probable I shall wish to go through a course of instruction 
and examination ; during which, I shall be able to form a 
judgment how far it will be right to admit him to the sa- 
crament of baptism. Can he read ?" 

" Yes," replied his master : " he has been taking great 
pains to learn to read for some time past, and can make 

11* 



126 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



out a chapter in the Bible pretty well, as my maid- sen' ant 
informs me. He speaks English better than many of his 
countrymen, but you will find it a little broken. When 
will it be convenient that I should send him over to you V s 

" To-morrow afternoon, sir, if you please." 

" He shall come to you about four o'clock, and you shall 
see what you can make of him." 

With this promise he took his leave. I felt glad of an 
opportunity of instructing a native of that land whose 
wrongs and injuries had often caused me to sigh and 
mourn ; the more so, when I reflected who had been the 
aggressors. 

At the appointed hour my negro disciple arrived. He 
was a very young-looking man, with a sensible, lively, and 
pleasing countenance. 

I desired him to sit down, and said, " Your master in- 
forms me, that you wish to have some conversation with 
me respecting Christian baptism." 

" Yes, sir, me very much wish to be a Christian," 
said he. 

" Why do you wish so ]" 

"Because me know that Christian go to heaven when 
he die." 

" How long have you had that wish V 3 I said. 
" Ever since me heard one goot minister preach in 
America, two years ago." 
" Where were you born V 3 

" In Africa. Me was very little boy when me was made 
slave by the white men." 
" How was that V 3 

" Me left father and mother one day at home to go get 
shells by de sea shore, and as I was stooping down to 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



127 



gather them up, some white sailors came out of a boat and 
took me away. Me never see father nor mother again." 

"And what became of you then V 

" Me was put into ship, and brought to Jamaica and sold 
to a master, who kept me in his house to serve him some 

years ; when, about three years ago, Captain W , my 

master, dat spoke to you, bought me to be his servant on 
board his ship. And he be goot master ; he gave me my 
liberty, and made me free, and me live with him ever 
since." 

" And what thoughts had you about your soul all that 
time before you went to America V I asked him. 

" Me no care for my soul at all before den. No man 
teach me one word about my soul." 

" Well, now tell me further about what happened to you 
in America. How came you there V } 

My master take me dere in his ship, and he stop dere 
one month, and den me hear the goot minister.' ' 

" And what did the minister say V 

'* He said me was great sinner." 

" What, did he speak to you in particular V' 

" Yes, me tink so ; for dere was great many to hear 
him, but he tell dem all about me." 

" What did he say }" 

" He say about all de tings dat were in my heart." 
« What things ?" 

" My sin, my ignorance, my know noting, my believe 
noting. De goot minister made me see dat me tink noting 
goot, no do noting goot." 

" And what else did he tell you V 9 

" He sometime look me in de face, and say, dat Jesne 
Christ came to die for sinners, poor black sinners, as well 



128 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



as white sinners. Me tought dis was very goot, very goot 
indeed, to do so for a wicked sinner." 

" And what made you think this was all spoken to you 
in particular V s 

" Because me sure no such wicked sinner as me in all 
de place. De goot minister must know me was dere." 

"And what did you think of yourself while he preached 
about Jesus Christ ]" 

" Sir, me was very much afraid, when he said the wick- 
ed must be turned into hell-fire. For me felt dat me was 
very wicked sinner, and dat make me cry. And he talk 
much about de love of Christ to sinners, and dat make me 
cry more. And me tought me must love Jesus Christ ; 
but me not know how, and dat make me cry again." 

"Did you hear more sermons than one during that 
month?" 

"Yes, sir ; master gave me leave to go tree times, and 
all de times me wanted to love Jesus more, and do what 
Jesus said ; but my heart seem sometime hard, like a 
Btone." 

" Have you ever heard any preaching since that time V 9 

" Never, till me hear sermon at dis church last Sunday, 
and den me long to be baptized in Jesu's name ; for me 
had no Christian friends to baptize me when little child." 

" And what have been your thoughts all the time since 
you first heard these sermons in America 1 did you tell 
anybody then what you felt V 

" No, me speak to nobody but to God den. De goot minis- 
ter say, that God hear de cry of de poor ; so me cry to 
God, and he hear me. And me often tink about Jesus 
Christ, and wish to be like him." 

" Can you read ?" 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



129 



"A little." 

"Who taught you to read!" 

" God teach me to read." 

" What do you mean by saying so?" 

" God give me desire to read, and that make reading 
easy. Master give me Bible, and one sailor show me de 
letters ; and so me learned to read by myself, with God's 
good help.' 

" And what do you read in the Bible V 9 

" O ! me read all about Jesus Christ, and how he loved 
sinners ; and wicked men killed him, and he died, and 
came again from de grave, and all dis for poor negro. And 
it sometime make me cry, to tink that Christ love so poor 
negro." 

" And what do the people say about your reading, and 
praying, and attention to the things of God V 9 

" Some wicked people dat do not love Jesus Christ, call 
me great fool, and negro dog, and black hypocrite. And 
dat make me sometime feel angry ; but den me remember 
Christian must not be angry, for Jesus Christ was called 
ugly black names, and he was quiet as a lamb ; and so 
den me remember Jesus Christ, and me say noting again 
to dem." 

I was much delighted with the simplicity and apparent 
sincerity of this poor negro ; and wished to ascertain what 
measure of light and feeling he possessed on a few lead- 
ing points, St. Paul's summary of religion* occurring to 
me, I said, " Tell me, what is faith 1 What is your own 
faith 1 What do you believe about Jesus Christ, and your 
own soul 7" 

* Now abideth faith, hope, charity ; these three ; but the greatest of these 
is charity. (1 Cor. xiii. 13.) 



130 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



" Me believe," said he, " dat Jesus Christ came into de 
world to save sinners, and dough me be chief of sinners, 
yet Jesus will save me, dough me be only poor black 
negro." 

" What is your hope ? What do you hope for, both as 
to this life and that which is to come ?" 

" Me hope Jesus Christ will take goot care of me, and 
keep me from sin and harm, while me live here ; and me 
hope, when me come to die, to go and live with him al- 
ways, and never die again." 

" What are your thoughts about Christian love or chari- 
ty 1 I mean, whom and what do you most love V 

6< Me love God de Father, because he was so goot to 
send his Son. Me love Jesus Christ, because he love 
men. Me love all men, black men and white men too ; 
for God made dem all. Me love goot Christian people, 
because Jesus love dem, and dey love Jesus." 

Such was my first conversation with this young disci- 
ple ; I rejoiced in the prospect of receiving him into the 
church, agreeably to his desire. I wished, however, to 
converse somewhat further, and inquire more minutely 
into his conduct ; and promised to ride over, and see him 
in a few days at his master's lodgings. 

When he was gone, I thought within myself, God has 
indeed redeemed souls by the blood of his Son, " out of 
every kindred and tongue, and people and nation." If 
many of them for a season are devoted to earthly slavery,* 
through the cruel avarice of man ; yet, blessed be God, 
some amongst them are, through divine grace, called to 
the glorious liberty of the children of God ; and so are re- 

* This circumstance took place before the late abolition of the slave trade. 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



131 



deemed from the slavery of him who takes so many cap- 
tive at his will. 

It is a happy thought, that " Ethiopia shall soon stretch 
forth her hands unto God. Sing unto God, ye kingdoms 
of the earth. O sing praises unto the Lord," 



PART n. 

When we endeavor to estimate the worth of an immor- 
tal soul, we are utterly lost in the attempt. The art of 
spiritual computation is not governed by the same princi- 
ples and rules which guide our speculations concerning 
earthly objects. The value of gold, silver, merchandise, 
food, raiment, lands, and houses, is easily regulated by 
custom, convenience, or necessity. Even the more capri- 
cious and imaginary worth of a picture, medal, or statue, 
may be reduced to something of systematic rule. Crowns 
and sceptres have had their adjudged valuation ; and king- 
doms have been bought and sold for sums of money. But 
who can affix the adequate price to a human soul } " What 
shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and 
lose his own soul 1 or what shall a man give in exchange 
for his soul ?" 

The principles of ordinary arithmetic all fail here ; and 
we are constrained to say, that He alone who paid the 
ransom for sinners, and made the souls of men his " pur- 
chased possession," can comprehend and solve the arduous 
question. They are indeed "bought with a price:" but 



132 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



are u not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and 
gold ; but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb 
without blemish and without spot." We shall only ascer- 
tain the value of a soul, when we shall be fully able to 
estimate the worth of a Saviour. 

Too often have we been obliged to hear what is the 
price which sordid unfeeling avarice has affixed to the body 
of a poor negro slave ; let us now attempt, while we pur- 
sue the foregoing narrative, to meditate on the value which 
Infinite Mercy has attached to his soul. 

Not many days after my first interview with my negro 
disciple, I went from home with the design of visiting and 
conversing with him again at his master's house, which 
was situated in a part of the parish nearly four miles dis- 
tant from -my own. The road which I took lay over a 
lofty down, which commands a prospect of scenery seldom 
exceeded in beauty and magnificence. It gave birth to 
silent but instructive contemplation. 

The down itself was covered with sheep, grazing on its 
wholesome and plentiful pasture. Here and there a shep- 
herd's boy kept his appointed station, and watched over 
the flock committed to his care. I viewed it as an emblem 
of my own situation and employment. Adjoining the hill 
lay an extensive parish, wherein many souls were given 
me to watch over, and render an account of, at the day of 
the great Shepherd's appearing. The pastoral scene be- 
fore me seemed to be a living parable, illustrative of my 
own spiritual charge. I felt a prayerful wish, that the good 
Shepherd who gave his life for the sheep, might enable me 
to be faithful to my trust. 

It occurred to me, about the same time, that my young 
African friend was a sheep of another more distant fold, 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



133 



which Christ will yet bring to hear his voice. For there 
shall be one fold and one Shepherd, and all nations shall 
be brought to acknowledge that he alone " restoreth our 
souls, and leadeth us into the paths of righteousness for his 
name's sake." On the left hand of the hill, as I advanced 
eastward, and immediately under its declivity, extended a 
beautiful tract of land intersected by a large arm of the sea, 
which (as the tide was fast flowing in) formed a broad lake or 
haven of three miles in length. Woods, villages, cottages, 
and churches, surrounded it in most pleasing variety of 
prospect. Beyond this lay a large fleet of ships of war, and 
not far from it another of merchantmen, both safe at anchor, 
and covering a tract of the sea of several miles in extent. 
Beyond this again, I saw the fortifications, dock-yards, and 
extensive public edifices of a large seaport town. The 
sun shone upon the windows of the buildings and the flags 
of the ships, with great brightness, and added much to the 
splendor of the view. 

I thought of the concerns of empires, the plans of states- 
men, the fate of nations, and the horrors of war. Happy 
will be that day, when He shall make wars to cease unto 
the end of the earth, and peace to be established on its 
borders ! 

In the mean time let us be thankful for those vessels 
and instruments of defence, which, in the hands of God, 
preserve our country from the hand of the enemy and the 
fury of the destroyer. What, thought 1, do we not owe to the 
exertions of the numerous crews on board those ships, who 
leave their homes to fight their country's battles, and main- 
tain its cause, whilst we sit every man under his vine and 
fig-tree, tasting the sweets of a tranquillity unknown to 
most other nations in these days of conflict and bloodshed ! 
12 



134 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



On my right hand, to the south and southeast, the un- 
bounded ocean displayed its mighty waves. It was covered 
with vessels of every size, sailing in all directions : some 
outward bound to the most distant parts of the world ; 
others, after a long voyage, returning home, laden with the 
produce of remote climes : some going forth in search of 
the enemy ; others sailing back to port after the hard- 
fought engagement, and bearing the trophies of victory in 
the prizes which accompanied them home. 

At the southwest of the spot on which I was riding, 
extended a beautiful simicircular bay, of about nine or ten 
miles in circumference, bounded by high cliffs of white, 
red, and brown-colored earths. Beyond this lay a range 
of hills, whose tops are often buried in cloudy mists, but 
which then appeared clear and distinct. This chain of 
hills, meeting with another from the north, bounds a large 
fruitful vale, whose fields, now ripe for harvest, proclaimed 
the goodness of God in the rich provision which he makes 
for the sons of men. It is he who " prepares the corn ; he 
crowns the year with his goodness, and his paths drop fat- 
ness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and 
the little hills rejoice on every side. The pastures are 
clothed with flocks ; the valleys also are covered over with 
corn : they shout for joy, they also sing." 

« The roving sight 

Pursues its pleasing course o'er neighboring hills 
Of many a different form and different hue ; 
Bright with the rip'ning corn, or green with grass, 
Or dark with clover's purple bloom." 

As I looked upon the numerous ships moving before me, 
I remembered the words of the Psalmist : " They that go 
down to the sea in ships, that do business in great wa- 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



135 



ters: these see the works of the Lord, and his won- 
ders in the deep. For he cornmandeth and raiseth the 
stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They 
mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths ; 
their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and 
fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's 
end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the 
storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then 
are they glad because they be quiet ; so he bringeth them 
unto their desired haven. Oh that men would praise the 
Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the 
children of men." — (Psalm cvii.) 

The Negro Servant then occurred to my mind. Per- 
haps, thought I, some of these ships are bound to Africa, 
in quest of that most infamous object of merchandise, a 
cargo of black slaves. Inhuman traffic for a nation that 
bears the name of Christian ! Perhaps these very waves, 
which are now dashing on the rocks at the foot of this 
hill, have, on the shores of Africa, borne witness to the 
horrors of forced separation between wives and husbands, 
parents and children, torn asunder by merciless men, whose 
hearts have been hardened against the common feeling 
of humanity by long custom in this cruel trade. " Blessed 
are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." When 
shall the endeavors of that truly Christian friend of the op- 
pressed negro be crowned with success, in the abolition of 
this wicked and disgraceful traffic 1* 

* The day has since arrived, when the persevering efforts of Mr. Wilber- 
force, to accomplish this happy purpose, have been fully answered. The 
slave trade is abolished I The church of God rejoices at this triumph of the 
cause of Christ over the powers of darkness. 



138 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



As I pursued the meditations which this magnificent 
and varied scenery excited in my mind, I approached the 
edge of a tremendous perpendicular cliff, with which the 
down terminates ; I dismounted from my horse, and tied 
it to a bush. The breaking of the waves against the foot 
of the cliff at so great a distance beneath me, produced an 
incessant and pleasing murmur. The sea-gulls were fly- 
ing between the top of the cliff where I stood, and the rocks 
below, attending upon their nests, built in the holes of the 
cliff. The whole scene in every direction was grand and 
impressive : it was suitable to devotion. The Creator ap- 
peared in the works of his creation, and called upon the 
creature to honor and adore. To the believer, this exer- 
cise is doubly delightful. He possesses a right to the en- 
joyment of nature and Providence, as well as to the privi- 
leges of grace. His title-deed runs thus : " All things 
are yours ; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the 
world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to 
come ; all are yours ; and ye are Christ's, and Christ is 
God's." 

I cast my eyes downward a little to the left towards a 
small cove, the shore of which consists of fine hard sand. 
It is surrounded by fragments of rock, chalk-cliffs, and 
steep banks of broken earth. Shut out from human inter- 
course and dwellings, it seems formed for retirement and 
contemplation. On one of these rocks I unexpectedly ob- 
served a man sitting with a book, which he was reading. 
The place was near two hundred yards perpendicularly 
below me, but I soon discovered by his dress, and by the 
black color of his features, contrasted with the white rocks 
beside him, that it was no other than my negro disciple, 
with, as I doubted not, a Bible in his hand. I rejoiced at 



THE XEGRO SERVANT. 



137 



this unlooked-for opportunity of meeting him in so solitary 
and interesting a situation. I descended a steep bank, 
winding by a kind of rude staircase, formed by fishermen 
and shepherds' boys in the side of the cliff down to the 
shore. 

He was intent on his book, and did not perceive me till 
I approached very near to him. 
" William, is that you ?" 

"Ah! Massa, me very glad to see you. How came 
Massa into dis place ] Me tought nobody here, but only 
God and me." 

" I was coming to your master's house to see you, and 
rode round by this way for the sake of the prospect. I often 
come here in fine weather, to look at the sea and the ship- 
ping. Is that your Bible F' 

" Yes, sir ;* dis my dear goot Bible." 

" 1 am glad," said I, "to see you so well employed. It 
is a good sign, William." 

" Yes, Massa, a sign that God is goot to me ; but me 
never goot to God." 

« How so !" 

" Me never tank him enough : me never pray to him 
enough : me never remember enough, who give me all 
dese goot tings. Massa, me afraid my heart is very bat. 
Me wish me was like you." 

" Like me, William 1 Why, you are like me, a poor, 
helpless sinner, that must, as well as yourself, perish in 
his sins, unless God, of his infinite mercy and grace, pluck 

* In the course of conversation, he sometimes addressed me with the word 
" Massa," for " Master." according to the well-known habit of the negro slaves 
in the West Indies ; aDd sometimes " Sir," as he was taught since his arrivaJ 
in England ; but the former word seemed to be most familiar to him. 

12* 



138 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



him as a brand from the burning, and make him an in- 
stance of distinguishing love and favor. There is no dif- 
ference ; we have both come short of the glory of God : 
all have sinned." 

" No, me not like you, Massa : me tink nobody like me, 
nobody feel such a heart as me.' 1 

" Yes, William, your feelings, I am persuaded, are like 
those of every truly convinced soul, who sees the exceed- 
ing sinfulness of sin, and the greatness of the price which 
Christ Jesus paid for the sinner's ransom. You can say 
in the words of the hymn, 

1 1 the chief of sinners am t 
But Jesus died for me.' " 

" O yes, sir, me believe that Jesus died for poor negro. 
What would become of poor wicked negro, if Christ no 
die for him 1 But he die for de chief of sinners, and dat 
make my heart sometime quite glad." 

"What part of the Bible were you reading, William]" 
" Me read how de man upon de cross spoke to Christ, 
and Christ spoke to him. Now dat man's prayer just do 
for me : * Lord, remember me.' Lord, remember poor ne- 
gro sinner : dis is my prayer every morning, and some- 
time at night too ; when me cannot tink of many words, 
den me say de same again ; Lord, remember poor negro 
sinner." 

" And be assured William, the Lord hears that prayer. 
He pardoned and accepted the thief upon the cross, and 
he will not reject you ; he will in no wise cast out any 
that come to him." 

" No, sir, I believe it ; but dere is so much sin in my 
heart, it make me afraid and sorry. Massa, do you see 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



139 



dese limpets,* how fast dey stick to de rocks here ? Just 
so, sin stick fast to my heart." 

" It may be so, William : but take another comparison : 
do you cleave to Jesus Christ by faith in his death and 
righteousness, as those limpets cleave to the rock, and 
neither seas nor storms shall separate you from his love." 

" Dat is just what me want." 

" Tell me, William, is not that very sin which you speak 
of, a burden to you 7 You do not love it ; you would be glad 
to obtain strength against it, and to be freed from it ; would 
you notl" 

" O yes ; me give all dis world, if me had it, to be with- 
out sin." 

" Come then, and welcome, to Jesus Christ, my brother; 
his blood cleanseth from all sin. He gave himself as a 
ransom for sinners. He hath borne our grief and carried 
our sorrows. He was wounded for our transgressions ; 
he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed. 
The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. Come, 
freely come to Jesus, the Saviour of sinners." 

"Yes, Massa," said the poor fellow, weeping, "me will 
come : but me come very slow ; very slow, Massa, me 
want to run, me want to fly. Jesus is very goot to poor 
negro, to send you to tell him all dis." 

" But this is not the first time you have heard these 
truths V 

" No, sir, dey have been comfort to my soul many times, 
since me hear goot minister preach in America, as me tell 
you last week at your house." 

* A kind of shell-fish, which abound in the place where we were, and 
which stick to the rocks with exceeding great force. 



140 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



" Well, now I hope, William, that since God has been 
so graciously pleased to open your eyes, and affect your 
mind with such a great sense of his goodness, in giving his 
Son to die for your sake ; I hope that you do your endeav- 
or to keep his commandments : I hope you strive to be- 
have well to your master and mistress, and fellow-ser- 
vants. He that is a Christian inwardly will be a Christian 
outwardly ; he that truly and savingly believes in Christ, 
will show his faith by his works, as the Apostle says. Is 
it not so, William V s 

" Yes, sir, me want to do so. Me want to be faithful. 
Me sorry to tink how bat servant me was, before de goot 
tings of Jesus Christ come to my heart. Me wish to do 
well to my Massa, when he see me and when he not see 
me ; for me know God always see me. Me know, dat if 
me sin against mine own Massa, me sin against God, and 
God be very angry with me. Beside, how can me love 
Christ, if me do not what Christ tell me 7 Me love my fel- 
low-servants, dough, as I tell you before, dey do not much 
love me, and I pray God to bless dem. And when dey 
say bat things, and try to make me angry, den me tink, if 
Jesus Christ were in poor negro's place, he would not re- 
vile and answer again with bat words and temper, but he 
say little, and pray much. And so den me say noting at 
all, but pray to God to forgive dem." 

The more I conversed with this African convert, the 
more satisfactory were the evidences of his mind being 
spiritually enlightened, and his heart effectually wrought 
upon by the grace of God. 

The circumstances of the place in which we met toge- 
ther, contributed much to the interesting effect which the 
conversation produced on my mind. The little cove or bay 



THE NEGRO SERVANT- 



141 



was beautiful in the extreme. The air was calm and se- 
rene. The sun shone, but we were sheltered from its 
rays by the cliffs. One of these was stupendously lofty 
and large. It was white as snow ; its summit hung di- 
rectly over our heads. The sea-fowl were flying around 
it. Its whiteness was occasionally checkered with dark- 
green masses of samphire, which grew there. On the 
other side, and behind us, was a more gradual declivity of 
many-colored earths, interspersed with green patches of 
grass and bushes, and little streams of water trickling 
down the bank, and mingling with the sea at the bottom. 
At our feet the waves were advancing over shelves of 
rocks covered with a great variety of sea-weeds, which 
swam in little fragments, and displayed much beauty and 
elegance of form, as they were successively thrown upon 
the sand. 

Ships of war and commerce were seen at different dis- 
tances. Fishermen were plying their trade in boats nearer 
the shore. The noise of the flowing tide, combined with 
the voices of the sea-gulls over our heads, and now and 
then a distant gun, fired from the ships as they passed 
along, added much to the peculiar sensations to which the 
scene gave birth. Occasionally the striking of oars upon 
the waves, accompanied by the boatman's song, met the 
ear. The sheep aloft upon the down sometimes mingled 
their bleatings with the other sounds. Thus all nature 
seemed to unite in impressing an attentive observer's heart 
with affecting thoughts, 

I remained for a considerable time in conversation with 
the negro, finding that his master was gone from home for 
the day, and had given him liberty for some hours. I spoke 
to him on the nature, duty, and privilege of Christian bap- 



142 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



tism ; pointed out to him, from a prayer-book which I had 
with me, the clear and scriptural principles of our own 
church upon that head, and found that he was very desir- 
ous of conforming to them. He appeared to me to be well 
qualified for receiving that sacramental pledge of his Re- 
deemer's love ; and I rejoiced in the prospect of beholding 
him no longer a " stranger and foreigner, but a fellow- 
citizen with the saints, and of the household of God." 

" God," said I to him, "has promised to 'sprinkle many 
nations,' not only with the waters of baptism, but also with 
the dews of his heavenly grace. He says, he will not only 
'pour water on him that is thirsty,' but, 'I will pour my 
Spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine off- 
spring.' " 

"Yes, Massa," said he, "he can make me to be clean 
in heart, and of a right spirit ; he can purge me wid hys- 
sop, and I shall be clean ; he can wash me, and I shall be 
whiter dan snow." 

" May God give you these blessings, and confirm you in 
every good gift !" 

I was much pleased with the affectionate manner in 
which he spoke of his parents, from whom he had been 
stolen in his childhood : and his wishes that God might 
direct them by some means to the knowledge of a Sa- 
viour. 

"Who knows," I said, "but some of these ships may be 
carrying a missionary to the country where they live, to 
declare the good news of salvation to your countrymen, 
and to your own dear parents in particular, if they are yet 
alive V' 

" O ! my dear fader and moder : rny dear gracious Sa« 
viour," exclaimed he, leaping from the ground as he spoke. 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



143 



" if thou wilt but save deir souls, and tell dem what dou 
hast done for sinner — but-—" 

He stopped and seemed much affected. 

"My friend." said I, "I will now pray with you for 
your own soul, and for those of your parents also." 

" Do, Massa, dat is very good and kind ; do pray for 
poor negro souls here and everywhere." 

This was a new and solemn " house of prayer." The 
sea-sand was our floor, the heavens were our roof, the 
cliffs, the rocks, the hills, and the waves, formed the walls 
of our chamber. It was not indeed a " place where prayer 
was wont to be made ;" but for this once it became a hal- 
lowed spot ; it will, by me, ever be remembered as such. 
The presence of God was there— I prayed. — The Negro 
wept. — His heart was full. I felt with him, and could not 
but weep likewise. 

The last day will show whether our tears were not the 
tears of sincerity and Christian love. 

It was time for my return : I leaned upon his arm, as 
we ascended the steep cliff in my way back to my horse, 
which I had left at the top of the hill. Humility and 
thankfulness were marked in his countenance. I leaned 
upon his arm with the feelings of a brother. It was a re- 
lationship I was happy to own. — I took him by the hand at 
parting, appointed one more interview previous to the day 
of baptizing him, and bade him farewell for the present, 

" God bless you, my dear Massa !" 

" And you, my fellow Christian, for ever and ever." 



144 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



PART III. 

The interesting and affecting' conversation which I had 
with the Negro Servant, produced a sensation not easy to 
be expressed. As I returned home, I was led into medita- 
tion on the singular clearness and beauty of those evi- 
dences of faith and conversion of heart to God, which I 
had just seen and heard. How plainly, I thought, it ap- 
pears, that salvation is " freely by grace through faith ; 
and that not of ourselves ; it is the gift of God ; not of 
works, lest any man should boast." What but the Holy 
Spirit, who is the author and giver of the life of grace, 
could have wrought such a change from the once dark, 
perverse, and ignorant heathen, to this now convinced, 
enlightened, humble, and believing Christian ? How 
manifestly is the uncontrolled sovereignty of the divine 
will exercised in the calling and translating of sinners 
from darkness to light ! what a lesson may the nominal 
Christian of a civilized country sometimes learn from the 
simple, sincere religion of a converted heathen ! 

I afterward made particular inquiry into this young 
man's domestic and general deportment. Every thing I 
heard was satisfactory ; nor could I entertain a doubt re- 
specting the consistency of his conduct and character. I 
had some further conversations with him ? in the course of 
which I pursued such a plan of scriptural instruction and 
examination, as I conceived to be the most suitable to his 
progressive state of mind. He improved much in reading, 
carried his Bible constantly with him, and took every op- 
portunity, which his duty to his master's service would 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



145 



allow, for perusing it. I have frequently had occasion to 
observe, that amongst the truly religious poor, who have 
not had the advantage of being taught to read in early 
youth, a concern about the soul, and a desire to know the 
word of God, have proved effectual motives for their learn- 
ing to read with great ease and advantage to themselves 
and others. It was strikingly so in the present case. 

I had, for a considerable time, been accustomed to meet 
some serious persons once a week, in a cottage at no great 
distance from the house where he lived, for the purpose 
of religious conversation, instruction, and prayer. Having 
found these occasions remarkably useful and interesting, I 
thought it would be very desirable to take the Negro 
there, in order that there might be other witnesses to the 
simplicity and sincerity of real Christianity, as exhibited 
in the character of this promising young convert. I hoped 
it might prove an eminent mean of grace to excite and 
quicken the spirit of prayer and praise amongst some of 
my parishioners, over whose spiritual progress I was 
anxiously watching* 

I accordingly obtained his master's leave that he should 
attend me to one of my cottage assemblies. His master, 
who was thoroughly convinced of the extraordinary change, 
in conduct and disposition, which religion had produced in 
his servant, was pleased with my attention to him, and 
always spoke well of his behavior. 

I set out on the day appointed for the interview. The 
cottage at which we usually assembled was near four 
miles distant from my own residence ; my road lay along 
the foot of the hill mentioned in my last account of the 
Negro, from the summit of which so luxuriant a prospect 
was seen. On my right hand the steep acclivity of the 
13 



146 



THE NEGRO SERVANT, 



hill intercepted all prospect, except that of numerous sheep 
feeding on its rich and plentiful produce. Here and there 
the nearly perpendicular side of a chalk-pit varied the 
surface of the hill, contrasting a dazzling white to the 
sober green of the surrounding bank. 

On the left hand, at the distance of near half a mile, 
the tide flowed from the sea into a lake or haven of con- 
siderable length and breadth. At one end of it, fishing 
and pilot vessels lay at anchor ; at the other appeared the 
parish church amongst the adjoining woods and fields. 
The bells were ringing : a gently swelling sound was 
brought along the surface of the water, and an echo re- 
turned from a prominent part of the hill, beneath which I 
was riding. The whole scene was delightful. 

I passed some rural and beautifully situated cottages, 
which seemed to be formed as fit residences for peace and 
tranquillity ; each was surrounded by a garden, and each 
had a little orchard or field adjacent, where the husband- 
man's cow enjoyed her own pasture, and at the same time 
prepared rich provision for her owner's family. Such was 
the wise and considerate allotment which the landlords 
and farmers had here made for the laboring poor. The 
wholesome vegetable, the medicinal herb, and the sweet- 
scented flower intermingled as they grew around these 
little dwellings, and reminded me, as I looked upon them, 
how comfortable is the lot of the industrious poor, whose 
hearts have learned the lesson of gratitude, in the school 
of heavenly wisdom. For them, as mercifully as for their 
richest neighbor, the sun shines, the rain descends, the 
earth brings forth her increase, the flower blossoms, the 
birds sing ; their wants are few, and contentment makes 
them less. How great the blessings of being poor in this 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



147 



world, but rich in faith, and a chosen inheritance in a 
better ! 

I knew that this was the character of some whose hum- 
ble, but neat and cleanly cottages I passed. A few such 
features in the prospect rendered it most lovely. Peace 
be to their memory, both as pilgrims and strangers here ; 
and as ransomed souls, whom I hope to meet in glory here- 
after ! 

The house to which I was travelling was situated at the 
corner of an oak wood, which screened it both from the 
burniug heat of summer suns and the heavy blasts of 
winter southwest storms. As I approached it, I saw my 
friend the Negro sitting under a tree, and waiting my ar- 
rival. He held in his hand a little tract which I had 
given him ; his Bible lay on the ground. He rose with 
much cheerfulness, saying, " Ah, Massa, me very glad to 
see you ; me tink you long time coming." 

M William, I hope you are well. I am going to take 
you with me to a few of my friends, who, I trust, are truly 
sincere in their religious pursuits. We meet every Wed- 
nesday evening for conversation about the things that 
belong to our everlasting peace, and I am sure you will 
be a welcome visiter." 

"Massa* me not goot enough to be with such goot peo- 
ple. Me great sinner. Dey be goot Christian." 

" If you were to ask them, William, they would each 
tell you they were worse than others. Many of them 
were once, and that not very long ago, living in an openly 
sinful manner, ignorant of God, and the enemies of Jesus 
Christ by thought and deed. But divine grace stopped 
them in their wicked course, and subdued their hearts to 
the love and obedience of him and his gospel. You will 



148 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



only meet a company of poor fellow-sinners, who love to 
speak and sing the praises of redeeming love ; and I am 
sure, William, that is a song in which you will be willing 
to join them/' 

" O ! yes, sir ; dat song just do for poor Negro." 

By this time we had arrived at the cottage garden gate. 
Several well-known faces appeared in and near the house, 
and the smile of affection welcomed us as we entered. It 
was known that the Negro was to visit the little society 
this evening, and satisfaction beamed on every counte- 
nance, as I took him by the hand and introduced him 
among them, saying, " I have brought a brother from Af- 
rica to see you. my friends. Bid him welcome in the 
name of the Lord Jesus Christ/'' 

" Sir," said an humble and pious laborer, whose heart 
and tongue always overflowed with Christian kindness, 
"we are at all times glad to see our dear minister, but es- 
pecially so to-day in such company as you have brought 
with you. We have heard how merciful the Lord has 
been to him. Give me your hand, good friend, (turning 
to the Negro.) God be with you here and everywhere ; 
and blessed be his holy name for calling sinners, as I hope 
he has done you and me, to love and serve him for his 
mercy's sake." 

Each one greeted him as he came into the house, and 
some addressed him in very kind and impressive lan- 
guage. 

" Massa," said he, " me not know what to say to all 
dese goot friends ; me tink dis look a little like heaven 
upon earth." 

He then, with tears in his eyes, which almost, before he 
spoke, brought responsive drops into those of many pres- 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



149 



ent, said, " Goot friends and bredren in Christ Jesus, Got 
bless you all, and bring you to heaven at de last." 

It was my stated custom, when I met to converse with 
these cottagers, to begin with prayer and reading a portion 
of the scriptures. 

When this was ended, I told the people present, that 
the providence of God had placed this young man for a 
time under my ministry ; and that, rinding him seriously 
disposed, and believing him to be very sincere in his reli- 
gious profession, I had resolved on baptizing him agreea- 
bly to his own wishes. I added, that I had now brought 
him with me to join in Christian conversation with us ; 
for, as in old times they that feared the Lord spake often 
one to another, in testimony that they thought upon his name, 
(Mai. iii, 16,) so I hoped we were fulfilling a Christian and 
brotherly duty in thus assembling for mutual edification. 

Addressing myself to the Negro, I said, " William, tell 
me who made you." 

" Got, the goot Fader." 

" Who redeemed you V 9 

" Jesus, his dear son, who died for me." 

" Who sanctified you 1" 

" The Holy Ghost, who teach me to know de goot 
Fader, and his dear Son Jesus." 

" What was your state by nature V 9 

" Me wicked sinner, me know noting but sin, me do 
noting but sin, my soul more black dan my body." 

" Has any change taken place in you since then V 9 

" Me hope so, Massa, but me sometime afraid no." 

" If you are changed, who changed you V 9 

" Got, de goot Fader ; Jesus, his dear son ; and Got, de 
Holy Spirit." 

13* 



150 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



"How was any change brought about in you ?" 
" Got make me a slave, when me was young little boy." 
"How, William, would you say, God made you a 
slave ?" 

" No, massa, no : me mean. Got let me be made slave 
by white men, to do me goot." 
" How to do you good V* 

" He take me from de land of darkness, and bring me to 
de land of light." 

" Which do you call the land of light : the West India 
Islands V 9 

" No, Massa, dey be de land of Providence, but America 
be de land of light to me ; for dere me first hear goot min- 
ister preach. And now dis place where I am now, is de 
land of more light ; for here you teach me more and more 
how goot Jesus is to sinners." 

"What does the blood of Christ do? 

" It cleanse from all sin : and so me hope from my sin." 

"Are then all men cleansed from sin by his blood]" 

" O no, Massa." 

" Who are cleansed and saved 1" 

" Dose dat have faith in him." 

" Can you prove that out of the Bible ?" 

" Yes, sir : 4 He dat believeth on de son, hath everlast- 
ing life ; and he dat believeth not de Son, shall not see 
life, but de wrath of Got abideth on him.' " (John iii. 36.) 

" What is it to have faith W 

" Me suppose dat it is to tink much about Jesus Christ, 
to love him much, to believe all he says to be true, to pray 
to him very much ; and when we feel very weak and very 
sinful, to tink dat he is very strong and very goot, and all 
dat for my sake." 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



151 



" And have you such a faith as you describe V 9 

" O Massa ! me tink sometimes me have no faith at all." 

"Why so, William]" 

" When me want to tink about Jesus Christ, my mind 
run about after oder things : when me want to love him, 
my heart soon quite cold ; when me want to believe all to 
be true what he says to sinners, me den tink it is not true 
for me ; when me want to pray, de devil put bat, very bat 
thoughts into me, and me never tank Christ enough. Now 
all dis make me sometime afraid I have no faith." 

I observed a very earnest glow of attention and fellow- 
feeling in some countenances present, as he spoke these 
words. I then said, 

" I think, William, I can prove that you have faith, not- 
withstanding your fears to the contrary. Answer me a 
few more questions. 

" Did you begin to think yourself a great sinner, and to 
feel the want of a Saviour, of your own self, and by your 
own thought and doing !" 

" O ! no ; it came to me, when me tink noting about 
it, and seek noting about it." 

" Who sent the goot minister in America to awaken 
your soul by his preaching]" 

" Got, very certainly." 

" Who then began the work of serious thought in your 
mind]" 

" De goot Got ; me could not do it of myself, me sure of 
dat." 

" Do you not think that Jesus Christ and his salvation 
is the one thing most needful and most desirable ]" 
" O ! yes, me quite sure of dat." 
" Do you not believe that he is able to save you V 9 



152 THE NEGRO SERVANT. 

" Yes. he is able to save to de uttermost/' 
"Do you think he is not willing to save you V 9 
" Me dare not say dat. He is so goot, so merciful, so 
kind, to say, he will in no wise cast out any dat come to him." 

M Do you wish, and desire, and strive to keep his com- 
mandments }" 

u Yes. Massa, because me love him, and dat make me 
want to do as he say." 

" Are you willing to suffer for his sake, if God should 
call you to do so 

" Me do tink me could die for de love of him : he not 
tink it too much to die for wicked sinner ; why should 
wicked sinner tink it much to die for so goot and righteous 
a Saviour I" 

" I think and hope I may say to you, William, Thy faith 
hath made thee whole." 

Thus ended my examination for the present. The other 
friends who were in the house listened with the most af- 
fectionate anxiety to all that passed. One of them ob- 
served, not without evident emotion, 

" I see. sir, that though some men are white, and some 
are black, true Christianity is all of one color. My own 
heart has gone with this good man every word he has 
spoken.'' 

"And so has mine," gently re-echoed from every part 
of the room. 

After some time passed in more general conversation 
on the subject of the Negro's history, I said, " Let us 
now praise God for the rich and unspeakable gift of his 
grace, and sing the hymn of redeeming love — 

IS'ow begin the heavenly theme, 
Sing aloud in Jcsu's name," ice. 



THE NEGKO SERVANT. 



153 



which was accordingly done. Whatever might be the 
merit of the natural voices, it was evident there was 
spiritual melody in all their hearts. 

The Negro was not much used to our way of singing, 
yet joined with great earnestness and affection, that showed 
how truly he felt what he uttered. When the fifth verse 
was ended, 

Nothing brought him from above, 
Nothing but redeeniing love ; 

he repeated the words, almost unconscious where he was. 

" No, noting, noting but redeeming love, bring him down 
to poor William ; noting but redeeming love. 5 ' 

The following verses were added, and sung by way of 
conclusion : — 

See, a stranger comes to view ; 
Though he's black,* he's comely too ; 
Comes to join the choirs above, 
Singing of redeeming love. 

Welcome. Negro, welcome here, 
Banish doubt and banish fear ; 
Fgu, who Christ's salvation prove, 
Praise and bless redeeming love. 

I concluded with some remarks on the nature of salva- 
tion by grace, exhorting all present to press forward in 
the heavenly journey. It was an evening, the circum- 
stances of which, had they never been recorded on earthy 
were yet doubtless registered in the book of remembrance 
above. 

I then fixed the day for the baptism of the Negro, and 
so took leave of my little affectionate circle. 



* Song of Solomon i. 5 



154 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



The moon shone bright as I returned home, and was 
beautifully reflected from the waters of the lake ; harmony 
and repose characterized the scene. I had just been 
uniting in the praises of the God of grace and providence, 
and now the God of nature demanded a fresh tribute of 
thanksgiving for the beauties and comforts of creation : 
as David sang, " When I consider thy heavens, the work 
of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast 
ordained : what is man that thou art mindful of him, or 
the son of man that thou visitest him V 

In a few days the Negro was baptized : and not long 
after went on a voyage with his master. 

Since that time I have not been able to hear any tidings 
of him ; whether he yet wanders as a pilgrim in this lower 
world, or whether he has joined the heavenly choir in the 
song of " redeeming love" in glory, I know not. This I 
do know, he was a monument to the Lord's praise. He 
bore the impression of the Saviour's image on his heart, 
and exhibited the marks of divine grace in his life and 
conversation, with singular simplicity, and unfeigned sin- 
cerity. 

Give to God the glory. 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



155 



My interviews with the Negro suggested the following 
lines, which are here subjoined, under the title of 

THE NEGRO'S PRAYER. 

Jesus, who mak'st the meanest soul 

An object of thy care, 
Attend to what my heart would speak— 

Hear a poor Negro's prayer. 

For thou, when bleeding on the cross, 

My sins and griefs didst bear ; 
Wherefore, my Lord, thou'lt not refuse 

To hear the Negro's prayer. 

I was a helpless Negro boy, 

That wandered on the shore : 
Thieves took me from my parent's arms— 

They saw their child no more. 

And yet the lot which seemed so hard 

God's faithfulness did prove ; 
For I was carried far from home, 

To learn a Saviour's love. 

Poor and despised though I was, 

Thine arm, O God ! was nigh , 
And when thy mercy first I knew, 

Sure none so glad as E. 

in ign'rance long my soul had dwelt, 

A rebel bold I'd been : 
But thy great goodness, O my God ! 

Sav'd me from all my sin. 

Mine was a wretched state, expos'd 

To men and angels' view ; 
A slave to man, a slave to sin, 

A slave to Satan too. 



THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



But if thy Son hath made me free, 

Then am I free indeed ; 
From powers of darkness, sin, and hell, 

Thy love my soul has freed. 

Lord, send thy word to that far land, 
Where none but Negroes live ; 

Teach them the way, the truth, the life, 
Which thou alone canst give. 

O ! that my father, mother dear, 

Might there thy mercy see ; 
Tell them what Christ has done for them, 

What Christ has done for me. 

Whose God is like the Christian's God 1 
Who can with him compare 1 

He hath compassion on my soul, 
And hears a Negro's prayer. 

Lord Jesus, thou hast shed thy blood 

For thousands such as me ; 
Though some despise poor Negro slave, 

I'm riot despis'd by thee. 

This is my heart's first wish below, 

To prove thy constant care ; 
Keep me from sin and danger, Lord, 

And hear a Negro's prayer. 

In heav'n the land of glory lies ; 

If I should enter there, 
I'll tell the saints and angels too 

Thou heard'st a Negro's prayer. 

14 



END OF THE NEGRO SERVANT. 



THE 



YOUNG COTTAGER. 



PART I. 

When a serious Christian turns his attention to the 
barren state of the wilderness through which be is travel- 
ling, frequently must he heave a sigh for the sins and sor- 
rows of his fellow mortals. The renewed heart thirsts 
with holy desire, that the Paradise, which was lost through 
Adam, may be fully regained in Christ. But the over- 
flowings of sin within and without, the contempt of sacred 
institutions, the carelessness of soul, the pride of unbelief, 
the eagerness of sensual appetite, the ambition for worldly 
greatness, and the deep-rooted enmity of the carnal heart 
against God : these things are as " the fiery serpents and 
scorpions, and drought," which distress his soul, as he 
journeys through " that great and terrible wilderness." 

Sometimes, like a solitary pilgrim, he " weeps in secret 
places," and "rivers of waters run down his eyes, because 
men keep not the law of God." 

Occasionally he meets with a few fellow-travellers, 
whose spirit is congenial with his own, and with whom he 
14 



158 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



can take "sweet counsel together." They comfort and 
strengthen each other by the way. Each can relate some- 
thing of the mercies of his God, and how kindly they have 
been dealt with, as they travelled onward. The dreari- 
ness of the path is thus beguiled, and now and then, for 
awhile, happy experiences of the divine consolation cheer 
their souls ; " the wilderness and the solitary place is glad 
for them; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose." 

But even at the very time when the Christian is taught 
to feel the peace of God which passeth all understanding, 
to trust that he is personally interested in the blessings 
of salvation, and to believe that God will promote his own 
glory by glorifying the penitent sinner ; yet sorrows will 
mingle with his comforts, and he will rejoice not without 
trembling, when he reflects on the state of other men. 
The anxieties connected with earthly relations are all 
alive in his soul, and, through the operation of the Spirit 
of God, become sanctified principles and motives for action. 
As the husband and father of a family, as the neighbor of 
the poor, the ignorant, the w T icked, and the wretched ; 
above all, as the spiritual overseer of the flock, if such be 
his holy calling, the heart winch has been taught to feel 
for its own case, will abundantly feel for others. 

But when he attempts to devise means in order to stem 
the torrent of iniquity, to instruct the ignorant, and to con- 
vert the sinner from the error of his way, he cannot help 
crying out, "Who is sufficient for these things]" Unbe- 
lief passes over the question, and trembles. But faith 
quickly revives the inquirer with the cheerful assurance, 
that " our sufficiency is of God," and saith, " Commit thy 
way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass." 

When he is thus affectionately engaged for the good of 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGEK. 



159 



mankind, he will become seriously impressed with the 
necessity of early attentions to the young in particular. 
Many around him are grown gray-headed in sin, and give 
but little prospect of amendment. Many of the parents 
and heads of families are so eagerly busied in the profits, 
pleasures, and occupations of the world, that they heed not 
the warning voice of their instructor. Many of their elder 
children are launching out into life, headstrong, unruly, 
"earthly, sensual, devilish;" they likewise treat the wis- 
dom of God as if it were foolishness. But, under these 
discouragements, we may often turn with hope to the very 
young, to the little ones of the flock, and endeavor to teach 
them to sing Hosannas to the son of David, before their 
minds are wholly absorbed in the world and its allure- 
ments. We may trust that a blessing shall attend such 
labors, if undertaken in faith and simplicity, and that some 
at least of our youthful disciples, like Josiah, while they 
are yet young, may begin to seek after the God of their 
fathers. 

Such an employment, especially when blessed by any 
actual instances of real good produced, enlivens the mind 
with hope, and fills it with gratitude. We are thence led 
to trust that the next generation may become more fruitful 
unto God than the present, and the church of Christ be 
replenished with many such as have been called into the 
vineyard " early in the morning." And should our endeav- 
ors for a length of time apparently fail of success, yet 
we ought not to despair. Early impressions and convic- 
tions of conscience have sometimes lain dormant for years, 
and at last revived into gracious existence and maturity. 
It was not said in vain, " Train up a child in the way he 
should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." 



160 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



What a gratifying occupation it is to an affectionate 
mind, even in a way of nature, to walk through the fields, 
and lead a little child by the hand, enjoying its infantile 
prattle, and striving to improve the time by some kind 
word of instruction ! I wish that every Christian pilgrim in 
the way of grace, as he walks through the Lord's pastures, 
would try to lead at least one little child by'the hand ;. and 
perhaps whilst he is endeavoring to guide and preserve 
his young and feeble companion, the Lord will recompense 
him double for all his cares, by comforting his own heart 
in the attempt. The experiment is worth the trial. It is 
supported by this recollection : " The Lord will come with 
strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him. Behold his 
reward is with him, and his work before him. He shall 
feed his flock like a shepherd, he shall gather the lambs 
with his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and shall 
gently lead those that are with young" 

I shall plead no further apology for introducing to the 
notice of my readers a few particulars relative to a young 
female Cottager, whose memory is particularly endeared 
to me, from the circumstance of her being, so far as I can 
trace or discover, my first-born spiritual child in the min- 
istry of the gospel. She was certainly the first, of whose 
conversion to God under my own pastoral instruction, I 
can speak with precision and assurance. 

Every parent of a family knows that there is a very in- 
teresting emotion of heart connected with the birth of his 
first-born child. Energies and affections, to which the 
mind has hitherto been almost a stranger, begin to unfold 
themselves and expand into active existence, when he first 
is hailed as a father. But may not the spiritual father be 
allowed the possession and indulgence of a similar sensation 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



161 



in his connection with the children whom the Lord gives 
him, as begotten through the ministry of the word of life ] 
If the first-born child in nature be received as a new and 
acceptable blessing ; how much more so the first-born 
child in grace ! I claim this privilege ; and crave permis- 
sion, in writing what follows, to erect a monumental 
record, sacred to the memory of a dear little child, who, I 
trust, will, at the last day, prove my crown of rejoicing. 

Jane S was the daughter of poor parents, in the vil- 
lage where it pleased God first to cast my lot in the min- 
istry. My acquaintance with her commenced, when she 
was twelve years of age, by her weekly attendance at my 
house amongst a number of children whom I invited and 
regularly instructed every Saturday afternoon. 

They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, 
and portions of scripture. I accustomed them also to pass 
a kind of free conversational examination, according to 
their age and ability, in those subjects by which I hoped 
to see them made wise unto salvation. 

On the summer evenings I frequently used to assemble 
this little group out of doors in my garden, sitting under 
the shade of some trees, which protected us from the heat 
of the sun. From hence a scene appeared which rendered 
my occupation the more interesting. For adjoining the 
spot where we sat, and only separated from us by a fence, 
was the churchyard, surrounded with beautiful prospects 
in every direction. 

There lay the mortal remains of thousands, who from 
age to age, in their different generations, had been suc- 
cessively committed to the grave, " earth to earth, ashes 
to ashes, dust to dust." Here, the once-famed ancestors 
of the rich, and the less known forefathers of the poor, lay 
14* 



162 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



mingling their dust together, and alike waiting the resur- 
rection from the dead. 

I had not far to look for subjects of warning and ex- 
hortation suitable to my little flock of lambs that I was 
feeding. I could point to the heaving sods that marked 
the different graves and separated them from each other, 
and tell my pupils, that, young as they were, none of them 
were too young to die : and that probably more than half 
of the bodies which were buried there, were those of little 
children. I hence took occasion to speak of the nature 
and value of a soul, and to ask them where they expected 
their souls to go when they departed hence and were no 
more seen on earth. 

I told them who was the "resurrection and the life," and 
who alone could take away the sting of death. I used to 
remind them that the hour was " coming, in the which all 
that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come 
forth ; they that have done good unto the resurrection of 
life ; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of 
damnation." I often availed myself of these opportunities 
to call to their recollection the more recent deaths of their 
own relatives, that lay buried so near us. Some had lost 
a parent, others a brother or sister ; some perhaps had lost 
all these, and were committed to the mercy of their neigh- 
bors, as fatherless and motherless orphans. Such circum- 
stances were occasionally useful to excite tender emotions, 
favorable to serious impressions. 

Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones 
which stood at the head of the graves, and bid them learn 
the epitaphs inscribed upon them. I took pleasure in see- 
ing the little ones thus dispersed in the churchyard, each 
committing to memory a few verses written in commemo- 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



163 



ration of the departed. They would soon accomplish the 
desired object, and eagerly return to me ambitious to repeat 
their task. 

Thus my churchyard became a book of instruction, and 
every grave-stone a leaf of edification for my young dis- 
ciples. 

The church itself stood in the midst of the ground. It 
was a spacious antique structure. Within those very 
walls I first proclaimed the message of God to sinners. 
As these children surrounded me, I sometimes pointed to 
the church, spoke to them of the nature of public worship, 
the value of the Sabbath, the duty of regular attendance 
on its services, and urged their serious attention to the 
means of grace. I showed them the sad state of many 
countries, where neither churches nor Bibles were known ; 
and the no less melancholy condition of multitudes at home, 
who sinfully neglect worship, and slight the Word of God. 
I thus tried to make them sensible of their own favors and 
privileges. 

Neither was I at a loss for another class of objects 
around me, from which I could draw useful instruction : 
for many of the beauties of created nature appeared in view. 

Eastward of us extended a large river or lake of sea- 
water, chiefly formed by the tide, and nearly enclosed by 
land. Beyond this was a fine bay and road for ships, filled 
with vessels of every size, from the small sloop or cutter 
to the first-rate man of war. On the right hand of the 
haven rose a hill of peculiarly beautiful form and consider- 
able height. Its verdure was very rich, and many hundred 
sheep grazed upon its sides and summit. From the op- 
posite shore of the same water a large sloping extent of 
bank was diversified with fields, woods, hedges, and cot- 



164 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



tages. At its extremity stood, close to the edge of the sea 
itself, the remains of the tower of an ancient church, still 
preserved as a sea-mark. Far beyond the bay, a very dis- 
tant shore was observable, and land beyond it ; trees, 
towns, and other buildings appeared, more especially when 
gilded by the reflected rays of the sun. 

To the southwest of the garden was another down 
covered also with flocks of sheep, and a portion of it fringed 
with trees. At the foot of this hill lay the village, a part 
of which gradually ascended to the rising ground on which 
the church stood. 

From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orchards, 
and trees, it presented a very pleasing aspect. Several 
fields adjoined the garden on the east and north, where a 
number of cattle were pasturing. My own little shrub- 
beries and flower-beds variegated the view, and recom- 
pensed my toil in rearing them, as well by their beauty as 
their fragrance. 

Had the sweet Psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, he 
would have glorified God the Creator by descanting on 
these his handy- works. I cannot write Psalms like David ; 
but I wish in my own poor way to praise the Lord for his 
goodness, and to show forth his wonderful works to the 
children of men. But had David been also surrounded 
with a troop of young scholars in such a situation, he 
would once more have said, 4i Out of the mouths of babes 
and sucklings hast thou ordained strength." 

I love to retrace these scenes — they are past, but the 
recollection is sweet. 

I love to retrace them — for they bring to my mind many 
former mercies, which ought not, for the Lord's sake, to 
be forgotten. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



165 



I love to retrace them — for they reassure me that, in 
the course of that private ministerial occupation, God was 
pleased to give me so valuable a fruit of my labors. 

Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly 
seasons of instruction. I made no very particular observa- 
tions concerning her during the first twelve months or 
more after her commencement of attendance. She was 
not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. On the 
whole, I used to think her rather more slow of apprehen- 
sion than most of her companions. She usually repeated 
her task correctly, but was seldom able to make answers 
to questions for which she was not previously prepared 
with replies — a kind of extempore examination in which 
some of the children excelled. Her countenance was not 
engaging, her eye discovered no remarkable liveliness. 
She read tolerably well, took pains, and improved in it. 

Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanor. 
She was very constant in her attendance on public wor- 
ship at the church, as well as on my Saturday instruction 
at home. But, generally speaking, she was little noticed, 
except for her regular and orderly conduct. Had I then 
been asked, of which of my young scholars I had formed 
the most favorable opinion, poor Jane might probably have 
been altogether omitted in the list. 

How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing in 
other people's hearts ! What poor calculators and judges 
we frequently prove, till he opens our eyes i His thoughts 
are not our thoughts ; neither are our ways his ways. 

Once, indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was 
struck with her ready attention to my wishes. I had, 
agreeably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the 
churchyard to commit to memory an epitaph which I ad- 



166 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



mired. On her return she told me, that, in addition to 
what I had desired, she had also learned another, which 
was inscribed on an adjoining stone ; adding, that she 
thought it a very pretty one. 

I thought so too, and perhaps my readers will be of the 
same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall speak, 
While I transcribe the lines, I can powerfully imagine 
that I hear her voice repeating them ; the idea is exceed- 
ingly gratifying to me. 

EPITAPH ON MRS. A. B. 

Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, 

That mourns thy exit from a world like this 

Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 

No more confin'd to grovTiing scenes of night, 

No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, 
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 

And trace thy journey to the realms of day. 

The above was her appointed task ; and the other, 
which she voluntarily learned and spoke of with pleasure, 
is this : 

EPITAPH, OX THE STONE ADJOINING. 

It must be so — Our father Adam's fall, 
And disobedience, brought this lot on all. 
All die in him— But hopeless should we be. 
Blest Revelation ! were it not for thee. 

Hail, glorious Gospel ; heavenly light, whereby 
We live with comfort, and with comfort die ; 
And view beyond this gloomy scene the tomb, 
A life of endless happiness to come. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGE?,. 



167 



I afterward discovered that the sentiment expressed in 
the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the pe- 
riod of this little incident I knew nothing of her mind. I 
had comparatively overlooked her. I have often been 
sorry for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me, when 
I afterward discovered what the Lord had been doing for 
her soul, as if I had neglected her. Yet it was not done 
designedly. She was unknown to us all ; except that, as 
I since found out, her regularity and abstinence from the 
sins and follies of her young equals in age and station 
brought upon her many taunts and jeers from others, which 
she bore very meekly. But at that time I knew it not. 

I was young myself in the ministry, and younger in 
Christian experience. My parochial plans had not as yet 
assumed such a principle of practical order and inquiry, 
as to make me acquainted with the character and conduct 
of each family and individual in my flock, 

I was then quite a learner, and had much to learn. 

And what am I now I — A learner still : and if I have 
learned any thing, it is this, that I have every day more 
and more yet to learn. Of this I am certain ; that my 
young scholar soon became my teacher. I first saw what 
true religion could accomplish, in witnessing her expe- 
rience of it. The Lord once 44 called a little child unto 
him, and set him in the midst of his disciples," as an em- 
blem and an illustration of his doctrine. But the Lord 
did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called 
her, as a child, to show, by a similitude, what conversion 
means ; but he also called her by his grace to be a vessel 
of mercy and a living witness of that almighty power and 
love, by which her own heart was turned to God, 



163 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



PART II. 

There is no illustration of the nature and character of 
the Redeemer's kingdom on earth which is more grateful 
to contemplation, than that of the shepherd and his flock. 
Imagination has been accustomed from our earliest child- 
hood to wander amongst the fabled retreats of the Arca- 
dian shepherds. We have probably often delighted our- 
selves in our own native country, by witnessing the in- 
teresting occupation of the pastoral scene. The shep- 
herd, tending his flock on the side of some spacious hill, 
or in the hollow of a sequestered valley ; folding them at 
night, and guarding them against all danger ; leading 
them froui one pasture to another, or for refreshment to 
the cooling waters — these objects have met and gratified 
our eyes, as we travelled through the fields, and sought 
out creation's God amidst creation's beauties. The poet 
and the painter have each lent their aid to cherish our de- 
light in these imaginations. Many a descriptive verse 
has strengthened our attachment to the pastoral scene, 
and many a well-wrought picture has occasioned it to glow 
like a reality in our ideas. 

But far more impressively than these causes can possi- 
bly effect, has the Word of God endeared the subject to 
our hearts, and sanctified it to Christian experience. Who 
does not look back with love and veneration to those days 
of holy simplicity, when patriarchs of the church of God 
lived in tents and watched their flocks 7 With what a 
strength and beauty of allusion do the Prophets refer to 
the intercourse between the shepherd and flock for an 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



169 



illustration of the Saviour's kingdom on earth ! The 
Psalmist rejoiced in the consideration that the Lord was 
his Shepherd, and that therefore he should not want. 
The Redeemer himself assumed this interesting title, and 
declared that " his sheep hear his voice, he knows them 
and they follow him, and he gives unto them eternal 
life." 

Perhaps at no previous moment was this comparison 
ever expressed so powerfully, as when his risen Lord gave 
the pastoral charge to the lately offending but now peni- 
tent disciple, saying, " Feed my sheep." Every principle 
of grace, mercy, and peace, met together on that occasion. 
Peter had thrice denied his Master : his Master now thrice 
asked him, " Lovest thou me 1" Peter each time appealed 
to his own, or to his Lord's consciousness of what he felt 
within his heart. As often Jesus committed to his care 
the flock which he had purchased with his blood. And 
that none might be forgotten, he not only said, " Feed my 
sheep," but, " Feed my lambs," also. 

May every instructor of the young keep this injunction 
enforced on his conscience and affections ! — I return to lit- 
tle Jane ~. 

It was about fifteen months from the first period of her 
attendance on my Saturday school, when I missed her 
from her customary place. Two or three weeks had gone 
by, without my making any particular inquiry respecting 
her. I was at length informed that she was not well. 
But, apprehending no peculiar cause for alarm, nearly two 
months passed away without any further mention of her 
name being made. 

At length a poor old woman in the village, of whose re- 
ligious disposition I had formed a good opinion, came and 

15 



170 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



said to me, " Sir, have not you missed Jane S at your 

house on Saturday afternoons V 9 

" Yes," I replied, " I believe she is not well." 

" Nor ever will be, I fear," said the woman. 

" What, do you apprehend any danger in the case V 9 

" Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a de- 
cline. She wants to see you, sir ; but is afraid you would 
not come to see such a poor young child as she is." 

" Not go where poverty and sickness may call me ! how 
can she imagine so 1 at which house does she live V 9 

" Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you 
to come there. Her near neighbors are noisy, wicked 
people, and her own father and mother are strange folks. 
They all make game at poor Jenny, because she reads her 
Bible so much." 

" Do not tell me about poor places, and wicked people : 
that is the very situation where a minister of the gospel is 
called to do the most good. I shall go to see her ; you 
may let her know my intention." 

" I will, sir ; I go in most days to speak to her, and it 
does one's heart good to hear her talk." 

" Indeed 1" said I : " what does she talk about V 9 

" Talk about, poor thing ! why, nothing but good things, 
such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life, and death, 
and her soul, and heaven, and hell, and your discourses, 
and the books you used to teach her, sir. Her father says 
he'll have no such godly doings in his house ; and her own 
mother scoffs at her, and says she supposes Jenny counts 
herself better than other folks. But she does not mind 
all that. She will read her books, and then talk so pretty 
to her mother, and beg that she would think about her 
soul." 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



171 



" The Lord forgive me," thought I, " for not being more 
attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to feel the 
importance of infantine instruction more than ever I had 
done before, and felt a rising hope that this girl might 
prove a kind of first fruits of my labors. 

I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attendance 
on our little weekly meetings ; and her marked approbation 
of the epitaph, as related in my last paper, rushed into my 
thoughts. " I hope, I really hope," said I, " this dear child 
will prove a true child of God. And if so, what a mercy 
to her, and what a mercy for me !" 

The next morning I went to see the child. Her dwell- 
ing was of the humblest kind. It stood against a high 
bank of earth, which formed a sort of garden behind it. 
It was so steep that but little would grow in it ; yet that 
little served to show not only, on the one hand, the poverty 
of its owners, but also to illustrate the happy truth, that 
even in the worst of circumstances the Lord does make a 
kind provision for the support of his creatures. The front 
aspect of the cottage was chiefly rendered pleasing, by a 
honeysuckle, which luxuriantly climbed up the wall, en- 
closing the door, windows, and even the chimney, with its 
twining branches. As I entered the house-door, its flow- 
ers put forth a very sweet and refreshing smell. Intent 
on the object of my visit, I at the same moment offered 
up silent prayer to God, and entertained a hope, that the 
welcome fragrance of the shrub might be illustrative 
of that all-prevailing intercession of a Redeemer, which 
I trusted was, in the case of this little child, as " a sweet 
smelling savor" to her heavenly Father. The very flow- 
ers and leaves of the garden and field are emblematical of 
higher things, when grace teaches us to make them so. 



172 



THE YOr>"G COTTAGEE. 



Jane was in bed up stairs. I found no one in the house 
with her. except the woman who had brought me the mes- 
sage on the evening before. The instant I looked on the 
girl I perceived a very marked change in her countenance : 
it had acquired the consumptive hue, both white and red. 
A delicacy unknown to it before quite surprised me, owing 
to the alteration it produced in her look. She received me 
first with a very sweet smile, and then instantly burst into 
a flood of tears, just sobbing out, 

" I am so glad to see you, sir 1" 

u I am very much concerned at your being so ill, 
my child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of 
your state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your 
good." 

Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, "J 
hope and think he does.*' 

u Well, my poor child, since you can no longer come to 
see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over the 
subjects which I have been used to explain to you." 

? Indeed, sir, I shall be so glad.*' 

" That I believe she will," said the woman ; 44 for she 
loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard 
you say in your sermons, and in the books you have given 
her." * 

"Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true 
Christian V 9 

u O ! yes, yes, sir ; I am sure I desire that above all 
things." 

I was astonished and delighted at the earnestness and 
simplicity with which she spoke these words. 

"Sir," added she, "I have been thinking as I lay on 
my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to in- 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



173 



etruct us poor children ; what must become of us with- 
out it*" 

" I am truly glad to perceive that my instructions have 
not been lost upon you, and pray God that this your pre- 
sent sickness may be an instrument of blessing in his 
hands to prove, humble, and sanctify you. My dear child, 
you have a soul, an immortal soul to think of ; you remem- 
ber what I have often said to you about the value of a soul : 
6 What would it profit a man to gain the whole world, and 
lose his own soul?' " 

" Yes, sir, I remember well you told us, that when our 
bodies are put into the grave, our souls will then go either 
to the good or the bad place." 

" And to which of these places do you think that, as a 
sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go?" 

" To the bad one, sir." 

" What, to everlasting destruction ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" Why so ?" 

"Because I am a great sinner." 
" And must all great sinners go to hell!" 
" They all deserve it ; and I am sure I do." 
" But is there no way of escape ! Is there no way for a 
great sinner to be saved ?" 

" Yes, sir, Christ is the Saviour." 
" And whom does he save V 9 
" All believers." 

"And do you believe in Christ yourself?" 
" I do not know, sir ; I wish I did ; but I feel that I 
love him." 

"What do you love him for?" 

" Because he is good to poor children's souls like mine." 
15* 



174 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



" What has he done for you?" 

" He died for me, sir ; and what could he do more V* 
" And what do you hope to gain by his death ?" 
" A good place when I die, if I believe in him and love 
him." 

" Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your soul?" 

" O ! yes, sir, a great deal. When you used to talk to 
us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could hardly 
bear it, and wondered that others could seem so careless. 
I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of all the bad 
things I had ever done and said, and believed God must 
be very angry with me ; for you often told us, that God 
w T ould not be mocked ; and that Christ said, if we were 
not converted we could not go to heaven. Sometimes I 
thought I was so young it did not signify : and then again 
it seemed to me a great sin to think so : for I knew I was 
old enough to see what was right and what was wrong ; 
and so God had a just right to be angry when I did wrong. 
Besides, I could see that my heart was not right : and how 
could such a heart be fit for heaven ? Indeed, sir, I used 
to feel very uneasy." 

" My dear Jenny, I wish I had known all this before. 
Why did you never tell me about it?" 

" Sir, I durst not. Indeed, I could not well say what 
was the matter with me : and I thought you would look 
upon me as very bold if I had spoke about myself to such 
a gentleman as you : yet I often wished that you knew 
what I felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went away 
from your house, I could not help crying ; and then the 
other children laughed and jeered at me, and said I was 
going to be very good, they supposed, or at least to make 
people think so. Sometimes, sir, I fancied you did not 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



175 



think so well of me as of the rest, and that hurt me ; yet 
I knew I deserved no particular favor, because I was the 
chief of sinners." 

" My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief of 
sinners ? In what verse of the Bible do you find this ex- 
pression, 'the chief of sinners — can you repeat it V 

" 4 This is a faithful saying-, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners 
is not that right, sir ?-" 

44 Yes, my child, it is right ; and I hope that the same 
conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made 
you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the 
world to save sinners : my dear child, remember now and 
for evermore, that Christ came into the world to save the 
chief of sinners." 

41 Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he 
will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am 
very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again. I 
want to go to Christ, if I die." 

44 Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he will 
not cast you away when you die. He that said, 4 Suffer 
little children to come unto me-,'* waits to be gracious to 
them, and forbids them not. 

44 What made you first think so seriously about the state 
of your soul 1" 

44 Your talking about the graves in the churchyard, and 
telling us how many young children were buried there. 
I remember you said one day, near twelve months ago, 
4 Children ! where will you be a hundred years hence ! 
Children ! where do you think you shall go when you die? 
Children ! if you were to die to-night, are you sure 
you should go to Christ and be happy!' Sir, I never 



178 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



shall forget your saying, ' Children,' three times together 
in that solemn way." 

" Did you never before that day feel any desire about 
your soul ?'' 

" Yes, sir ; I think I first had that desire almost as soon 
as you began to teach us on Saturday afternoons ; but on 
that day I felt as I never did before. I shall never forget it. 
All the way as I went home, and all that night, these words 
were in my thoughts : 4 Children ! where do you think you 
shall go, when you die V I thought I must leave off all my 
bad ways, or where should I go when I died ?" 

" And what effect did these thoughts produce in your 
mind V 

" Sir, I tried to live better, and I did leave off many 
bad ways ; but the more I strove, the more difficult I 
found it, my heart seemed so hard : and then I could not 
tell any one my case/' 

" Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and an- 
swers prayer V 1 

" My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very 
poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how to 
pray at all, as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the Lord 
for a better heart." 

There was a character in all this conversation which 
marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind. 
She spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the 
seriousness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade 
myself that she was the same girl I had been accustomed 
to see in past time. Her countenance was filled with in- 
teresting affections, and always spoke much more than her 
tongue could utter. At the same time she now possessed 
an ease and liberty in speaking, to which she had formerly 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



177 



been a stranger : nevertheless, she was modest, hum- 
ble, and unassuming. Her readiness to converse was the 
result of spiritual anxiety, not childish forwardness. The 
marks of a divine change were too prominent to be easily 
mistaken ; and in this very child, I, for the first time, wit- 
nessed the evident testimonies of such a change. How 
encouraging, how profitable to my own soul ! 

" Sir," continued little Jane, " I had one day been think- 
ing that I was neither fit to live nor die : for I could find 
no comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved none 
in the other. On that day you sent me to learn the verse 

on Mrs. B 's headstone, and then I read that on the 

one next to it," 

" I very well remember it, Jenny ; you came back, and 
repeated them both to me." 

" There were two lines in it which made me think and 
meditate a great deal." 

" Which were they!" 

" ' Hail, glorious Gospel, heavenly light, whereby 
We live with comfort, and with comfort die.' 

I wished that glorious gospel was mine, that I might live 
and die with comfort ; and it seemed as if I thought it 
would be so. I never felt so happy in all my life before. 
The words were often in my thoughts, 

' Live with comfort, and with comfort die.* 
1 Glorious gospel' indeed ! I thought." 

" My dear child, what is the meaning of the word gos- 
pel?" 

" Good news." 

" Good news for whom V 9 

" For wicked sinners, sir." 

M Who sends this good news for wicked sinners 



178 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



" The Lord Almighty." 

" And who brings this good news V* 

" Sir, you brought it to me." 

Here my soul melted in an instant, and I could not re- 
press the tears which the emotion excited. The last 
answer was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a 
father's tenderness and gratitude for a new and first-born 
child. 

Jane wept likewise. 

After a little pause she said, 

44 O sir ! I wish you would speak to my father, and mo- 
ther, and little brother • for I am afraid they are going on 
very badly." 

44 How so !" 

44 Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not 
like what is good : and it does grieve me so, I cannot bear 
it. If I speak a word to them about it they are very angry, 
and laugh, and bid me be quiet, and not set up for their 
teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this of them, but 
I hope it is not wrong ; I mean it for their good." 

44 1 wish your prayers and endeavors for their sake may 
be blessed : I will also do what I can." 

I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit her 
constantly. 

As I returned home, my heart was filled with thankful- 
ness for what I had seen and heard. Little Jane appeared 
to be a first-fruits of my parochial and spiritual harvest. 
This thought greatly comforted and strengthened me in 
my ministerial prospects. 

My partiality to the memory of little Jane will probably 
induce me to lay some further particulars before the 
reader. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



179 



PART III. 

Divine grace educates the reasoning faculties of the 
eoul, as well as the best affections of the heart ; and hap- 
pily consecrates them both to the glory of the Redeemer. 
Neither the disadvantages of poverty, nor the inexperience 
of childhood, are barriers able to resist the mighty influ- 
ences of the Spirit of God, when "he goeth forth where 
he listeth." — " God hath chosen the foolish things of this 
world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the 
weak things of the world to confound the things which 
are mighty." The truth of this scriptural assertion was 
peculiarly evident in the case of my young parishioner. 

Little Jane's illness was of a lingering nature. I often 
visited her. The soul of this young Christian was grad- 
ually, but effectually, preparing for heaven. I have sel- 
dom witnessed in any older person, under similar circum- 
stances, stronger marks of earnest inquiry, continual 
seriousness, and holy affections. One morning, as I was 
walking through the churchyard, in my way to visit her, I 
stopped to look at the epitaph which had made such a 
deep impression on her mind. I was struck with the re- 
flection of the important consequences which might result 
from a more frequent and judicious attention to the in- 
scriptions placed in our burying-grounds, as memorials of 
the departed. The idea occurred to my thoughts, that as 
the two stone tables given by God to Moses were once a 
mean of communicating to the Jews, from age to age, the 
revelation of God's will as concerning the law ; so these 
funeral tables of stone may, under a better dispensation, 



180 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



bear a never-failing proclamation of God's good-will to 
sinners as revealed in the gospel of his grace, from gene- 
ration to generation. I have often lamented, when in- 
dulging a contemplation among the graves, that some of 
the inscriptions were coarse and ridiculous ; others, ab- 
surdly nattering ; many, expressive of sentiment at vari- 
ance with the true principles of the word of God ; not a 
few, barren and unaccompanied with a single word of use- 
ful instruction to the reader. Thus a very important op- 
portunity of conveying scriptural admonition is lost. I 
wish that every grave- stone might not only record the 
name of our deceased friends, but also proclaim the name 
of Jesus, as the only name given under heaven, whereby 
men can be saved. Perhaps, if the ministers of religion 
were to interest themselves in this manner, and accus- 
tom their people to consult them as to the nature of the 
monumental inscriptions which they wish to introduce 
into churches and churchyards, a gradual improvement 
would take place in this respect. What is offensive, use- 
less, or erroneous, would no longer find admittance, and a 
succession of valuable warning and consolation to the liv- 
ing would perpetuate the memory of the dead. 

What can be more disgusting than the too common 
spectacle of trifling, licentious travellers, wandering about 
the churchyards of the different places through which 
they pass, in search of rude, ungrammatical, ill-spelt, and 
absurd verses among the grave-stones ; and this for the 
gratification of their unholy scorn and ridicule ! And yet 
how much is it to bfc deplored that such persons are sel- 
dom disappointed in finding many instances which too 
readily afford them the unfeeling satisfaction which they 
seek ! I therefore offer this suggestion to my reverend 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



181 



brethren, that as no monument or stone can be placed in a 
church or churchyard without their express consent or 
approbation, whether one condition of that consent being 
granted, should not be a previous inspection and approval 
of every inscription which may be so placed within the 
precincts of the sanctuary. 

The reader will pardon this digression, which evidently 
arose from the peculiar connection established in little 
Jane's history, between an epitaph inscribed on a grave- 
stone, and the word of God inscribed on her heart. When I 
arrived at Jane's cottage, I found her in bed, reading Dr. 
Watts 's Hymns for Children, in which she took great 
pleasure. 

"What are you reading this morning, Jane!" 
" Sir, I have been thinking very much about some ver- 
ses in my little book. — Here they are : 

' There is an hour when 1 must die, 

Nor do I know how soon 'twill come ; 
A thousand children young as I, 

Are called by death to hear their doom. 

* Let me improve the hours I have, 

Before the day of grace is fled ; 
There's no repentance in the grave, 

Nor pardon ofTer'd to the dead.' 

"Sir, I feel all that to be very true, and I am afraid I 
do not improve the hours I have as I ought to do. I think 
I shall not live very long ; and when I remember my 
sins, I say, 

« Lord, at thy foot ash am' d 1 lie, 

Upward 1 dare not look ; 
Pardon my sins before 1 die, 

And blot them from thy book.' 

Do you think he will pardon me, sir 1" 
16 



182 



THE TOTTNG COTTAGER. 



" My dear child, I have great hopes that he has par- 
doned you : that he has heard your prayers, and put you 
into the number of his true children already. You have 
had strong proofs of his mercy to your soul." 

44 Yes, sir, I have, and I wish to love and bless him for 
it. He is good, very good." 

It had for some time past occurred to my mind, that a 
course of regulated conversations on the first principles of 
religion, would be very desirable from time to time, for 
this interesting child's sake ; and I thought the Church 
Catechism would be the best ground-work for that purpose. 

44 Jenny," said I, " you can repeat the Catechism }" 

44 Yes, sir ; but I think that has been one of my sins in 
the sight of God." 

44 What ! repeating your Catechism V 9 

44 Yes, sir, in such a way as I used to do it." 

44 How was that ?" 

44 Very carelessly indeed. I never thought about the 
meaning of the words, and that must be very wrong. Sir, 
the Catechism is full of good things ; I wish I understood 
them better." 

" Well then, my child, we will talk a little about those 
good things which, as you truly say, are contained in the 
Catechism. Did you ever consider what it is to be a mem- 
ber of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the king- 
dom of heaven V 9 

44 1 think, sir, I have lately considered it a good deal; 
and I want to be such, not only in name, but in deed and 
in truth. You once told me, sir, that ' as the branch is to 
the vine, and the stone to the building, and the limb to the 
body and the head, so is a true believer to the Lord Jesus 
Christ.' But how am I to know that I belong to Christ as 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



1S3 



a true member, which you said one day in the church, 
means the same as a limb of the body, such as a leg or 
an arm ?" 

" Do you love Christ now in a way you never used to 
do before ¥' 

? Yes, I think so indeed." 

" Why do you love him ?-" 

" Because he first loved me." 

u How do you know that he first loved you % n 

" Because he sent me instruction, and made me feel the 
sin of my heart, and taught me to pray for pardon, and 
love his ways : he sent you to teach me, sir, and to show 
me the way to be saved ; and now I want to be saved in 
that way that he pleases. Sometimes I feel as if I loved 
all that he has said and done, so much, that I wish never 
to think about any thing else. I know I did not use to 
feel so ; and I think if he had not loved me first, my 
wicked heart would never have cared about him. I once 
loved any thing better than religion, but now it is every 
thing to me." 

" Do you believe in your heart that Christ is able and 
willing to save the chief of sinners ?-" 
"I do." 

"And what are you V 9 
1 A young, but a great sinner." 

" Is it not of his mercy that you know and feel yourself 
to be a sinner V 9 

"Certainly; yes, it must be so." 

" Do you earnestly desire to forsake all sin V 9 

" If I know myself, I do." 

"Do you feel a spirit within you, resisting sin, and 
making you hate it V* 



184 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



" Yes, I hope so." 

"Who gave you that spirit ? were you always so?" 

" It must be Christ, who loved me, and gave himself 
for me. I was quite different once." 

" Now then, my dear Jane, does not all this show a con- 
nection between the Lord Jesus Christ and your soul] 
Does it not seem, as if you lived, and moved, and had a 
spiritual being from him ] Just as a limb is connected 
with your body, and so with your head, and thereby gets 
power to live and move through the flowing of the blood 
from one to the other : so are you spiritually a limb or 
member of Christ, if you believe in him ; and thus obtain, 
through faith, a power to love him, and live to his praise 
and glory. Do you understand me V 

44 Yes, sir, I believe I do : and it is very comfortable to 
my thoughts to look up to Christ as a living head, and to 
consider myself as the least and lowest of all his members." 

" Now, tell me what your thoughts are as to being a 
child of God." 

" I am sure, sir, I do not deserve to be called his child." 
44 Can- you tell me who does deserve it V 9 
44 No one, sir." 

44 How then comes any one to be a child of God, when 
by nature we are all children of of wrath ?" 
44 By God's grace, sir !" 
44 What does grace mean V 9 
44 Favor ; free favor to sinners." 

44 Right ; and what does God bestow upon the children 
of wrath, when he makes them children of grace ?" 

44 A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness ; 
is it not, sir ?" 

44 Yes, this is the fruit of Christ's redeeming love : and 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



185 



I hope you are a partaker of the blessing. The family of 
God is named after him, and he is the first-born of many 
brethren. What a mercy that Christ calls himself 4 a 
hr other /' My little girl, he is your brother ; and will not 
be ashamed to own you, and present you to his Father at 
the last day, as one that he has purchased with his blood.'' 
" I wish I could love my Father and my Brother which 
are in heaven, better than I do. Lord, be merciful to me 
a sinner ! I think, sir, if I am a child of God, I am often 
a rebellious one. He shows kindness to rne beyond oth- 
ers, and yet I make a very poor return. 

'Are these thy favors, day by day, 

To me above the rest 1 
Then let me love thee more than they, 

And strive to serve thee best.' " 

44 That will be the best way to approve yourself a real 
child of God. Show your love and thankfulness to such a 
Father, who hath prepared for you an inheritance among 
the saints in light, and made you 4 an inheritor of the 
kingdom of heaven, as well as a member of Christ, and a 
child of God.' Do you know what 4 the kingdom of hea- 
ven' means V 9 

Just at that instant, her mother entered the house be- 
low, and began to speak to a younger child in a passionate, 
scolding tone of voice, accompanied by some very offen- 
sive language ; but quickly stopped on hearing us in con- 
versation up stairs. 

44 Ah, my poor mother !" said the girl, 44 you would not 

have stopped so short, if Mr. had not been here. Sir, 

you hear how my mother swears ; pray say something to 
her ; she will not hear me." 

16* 



156 



THE TOTFHG COTTAGER. 



I went towards the stair-head, and called to the woman , 
but ashamed at the thought of my having probably over- 
heard her expressions, she suddenly left the house, and 
for that time escaped reproof. 

" Sir," said little Jane, * I am so afraid, if I go to heaven, 
I shall never see my poor mother there. I wish I may ; 
but she does swear so, and keep such bad company. As 
I lie here a-bed, sir, for hours together, there is often so 
much wickedness, and noise, and quarrelling down below, 
that I do not know how to bear it. It comes very near, sir, 
when one's father and mother go on so. I want them all to 
turn to the Lord, and go to heaven. — Tell me now, sir, some- 
thing about being an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven/' 

u You may remember, my child, what I have told 
you when explaining the Catechism in the church, that 
'the kingdom of heaven' in the Scriptures means the 
Church of Christ upon earth, as well as the state of glory 
in heaven. The one is a preparation for the other. All 
true Christians are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with 
Christ, and shall inherit the glory and happiness of his 
kingdom, and live with Christ, and be with him for ever. 
This is the free gift of God to his adopted children ; and 
all that believe aright in Christ shall experience the truth 
of that promise, ' It is your Father's good pleasure to give 
you the kingdom.' You are a poor girl now, but I trust 
1 an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly, 
into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ.' You suffer now ; but are you not willing 
to suffer for his sake, and to bear patiently those things to 
which he calls you]" 

" O yes, very willing ; I would not complain. It is all 
right." 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



187 



" Then, my dear, you shall reign with him. Through 
much tribulation you may, perhaps, enter into the king- 
dom of God ; but tribulation worketh patience : and pa- 
tience experience ; and experience, hope. As a true 
'member of Christ,' show yourself to be a dutiful 'child 
of God,' and your portion will be that of an inheritor of 
the kingdom of heaven. Faithful is He that hath prom- 
ised ; commit thy way unto the Lord ; trust also in him, 
and he shall bring it to pass." 

" Thank you, sir ; I do so love to hear of these things. 
And I think, sir, I should not love them so much, if I had 
no part in them. Sir, there is one thing I want to ask 
you. It is a great thing, and I may be wrong — I am so 
young — And yet I hope I mean right " 

Here she hesitated, and paused. 

" What is it 1 do not be fearful of mentioning it." 

A tear rolled down her cheek — a slight blush colored 
her countenance. She lifted up her eyes to heaven for a 
moment, and then fixing them on me with a solemn, af- 
fecting look, said — 

" May so young a poor child as I am, be admitted to the 
Lord's Supper ? I have for some time wished it, but 
dared not to mention it, for fear you should think it wrong." 

"My dear Jenny, I have no doubt respecting it, and 
shall be very glad to converse with you on the subject, 
and hope that He who has given you the desire will bless 
his own ordinance to your soul. Would you wish it now, 
or to-morrow V 

"To-morrow, if you please, sir, — will you come to- 
morrow, and talk to me about it 1 and if you think it pro- 
per, I shall be thankful. I am growing faint now — I hope 
to be better when you come again." 



168 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



I was much pleased with her proposal, and rejoiced in 
the prospect of seeing so young and sincere a Christian 
thus devote herself to the Lord, and receive the sacra- 
mental seal of a Saviour's love to her soul. 

Disease was making rapid inroads upon her constitution, 
and she was aware of it. But as the outward man decay- 
ed, she was strengthened with might by God's Spirit in 
the inner man. She was evidently ripening fast for a 
better world. 

I remember these things with affectionate pleasure — 
they revive my earlier associations, and I hope the recol- 
lection does me good. I wish them to do good to thee, 
likewise, my reader ; and therefore I write them down. 

May the simplicity that is in Christ render 

u The short and simple annals of the poor" 

a mean of grace and blessing to thy soul ! Out of the 
mouth of this babe and suckling may God ordain thee 
strength ! If thou art willing, thou rnayest perchance 
hear something further respecting her. 



PART IV. 

I was so much affected with my last visit to little Jane, 
and particularly with her tender anxiety respecting the 
Lord's Supper, that it formed the chief subject of my 
thoughts for the remainder of the day. 

I rode in the afternoon to a favorite spot, where I some- 
times indulged in solitary meditation ; and where I wish- 



THE YOITNG- COTTAGER. 



189 



ed to reflect on the interesting case of my little dis- 
ciple. 

It was a place well suited for such a purpose. 

In the widel} 7 sweeping curve of a beautiful bay, there 
is a kind of chasm or opening in one of the lofty cliffs 
which bound it. This produces a very romantic and strik- 
ing effect. The steep-descending sides of this opening in 
the cliff are covered with trees, bushes, wild-flowers, fern, 
wormwood, and many other herbs, here and there con- 
trasted with bold masses of rock or brown earth. 

In the higher part of one of those declivities two or 
three picturesque cottages are fixed, and seem half sus- 
pended in the air. 

From the upper extremity of this great fissure, or open- 
ing in the cliff, a small stream of water enters by a cas- 
cade, flows through the bottom, winding in a varied course 
of about a quarter of a mile in length ; and then runs into 
the sea across a smooth expanse of firm hard sand, at the 
lower extremity of the chasm. At this point, the sides of 
the woody banks are very lofty, and to a spectator from 
the bottom, exhibit a mixture of the grand and beautiful 
not often exceeded. 

Near the mouth of this opening was a little hollow re- 
cess, or cave, in the cliff, from whence, on one hand, I 
could see the above-described romantic scene ; on the other, 
a long train of perpendicular cliffs, terminating in a bold 
and wild-shaped promontory, which closed the bay at one 
end, while a conspicuous white cliff stood directly opposite, 
about four miles distant, at the further point of the bay. 

The shore between the different cliffs and the edge of 
the waves, was in some parts covered with stones and 
shingle, in some with firm sand, and in others with irre- 



ea-weed. and 

■ith strata of 
and orange. 
::es: changes 
ig drops and 

The open sea., in full magnincence. occupied the centre 
of the prospect : hour-dec", in feed, in cue small part, by a 
very distant shore, on the rising ascent from which the 

where else, the sea beyond was limited only by the sky. 

A frigate was standing into the hay. not very far from 
my recess ; other vessels of every size, sailing in many 
directions, varied the scene, and tarnished matter for a 

At my feet the little rivulet, gently rinnling over peb- 
wave. as the tide ebbed or flowed, on the sand : their dash- 
in the air aloft, or occasionally screaming from their holes 

soothin£uv blended together, and entered the ear in a kind 



190 TEZ YOTNCt coitag-ie. 

gular heaps of little rocks fringed with s 
ornamented with small yellow shells. 

Tri* 1 p — i- -• - c r.- i^.ju me. or — icm • • • -. • • 



THE rOL'SS- COTTAGER. 



191 



In the quiet enjoyment of a scene like this, the lover of 
nature's beauties will easily find scope for spiritual illus- 
tration. 

Here I sat and mused over the interesting character 
and circumstances of little Jane. Here I prayed that God 
would effectually teach me those truths which I ought 
to teach her. 

When I thought of her youth, I blushed to think how 
superior she was to what I well remember myself to have 
been at the same age : nay, how far my superior at that 
very time. I earnestly desired to catch something of the 
spirit which appeared so lovely in her : for simple, teach- 
able, meek, humble, yet earnest in her demeanor, she bore 
living marks of heavenly teaching. 

" The Lord," thought I, 44 has called this little child, and 
set her in the midst of us, as a parable, a pattern, an em- 
blem. And he saith, 4 Verily, except ye be converted, and 
become as little children, ye shall not enter into the king- 
dom of heaven.' O that I may be humble as this little child !" 

I was thus led into a deep self-examination, and was 
severely exercised with fear and apprehension, whether I 
was myself a real partaker of those divine influences which 
I could so evidently discover in her. Sin appeared to me 
just then to be more than ever " exceeding sinful." In- 
ward and inbred corruptions made me tremble. The dan- 
ger of self-deception in so great a matter alarmed me — 
I was a teacher of others ; but was I indeed spiritually 
taught myself? 

A spirit of anxious inquiry ran through every thought : 
I looked at the manifold works of creation around me ; I 
perceived the greatest marks of regularity and order ; but 
within I felt confusion and disorder. 



192 



THE YOUNG COTTAGES. 



" The waves of the sea," thought I, "ebb and flow in ex- 
act obedience to the law of their Creator. — Thus far they 
come, and no further — they retire again to their accus* 
tomed bounds ; and so maintain a regulated succession of 
effects. 

4i But alas ! the waves of passion and affection in the 
human breast manifest more of the wild confusion of a 
storm, than the orderly regularity of a tide — Grace can 
alone subdue them. 

M What peaceful harmony subsists throughout all this 
lovely landscape ! — These majestic cliffs, some clothed 
with trees and shrubs ; others bare and unadorned with 
herbage, yet variegated with many-colored earths : these 
are not only sublime and delightful to behold, but they are 
answering the end of their creation, and serve as a barrier 
to stop the progress of the waves. 

" But how little peace and harmony can I comparatively 
see in my own heart ! The landscape within is marred by 
dreary barren wilds, and wants that engaging charactei 
which the various parts of this prospect before me so hap 
pily preserve. — Sin, sin is the bane of mortality, and heap?, 
confusion upon confusion, wherever it prevails. 

" Yet, saith the voice of Promise, 4 Sin shall not have 
dominion over you.' — O ! then, 8 may I yield myself unto 
God, as one that am alive from the dead, and my members 
as instruments of righteousness unto God.' And thus may 
I become an able and willing minister of the New Testa- 
ment ! 

M 1 wish I were like this little stream of water. — It takes 
its first rise scarcely a mile off : yet it has done good even 
in that short course. It has passed by several cottages in 
its way, and afforded life and health to the inhabitants — it 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



193 



has watered their little gardens, as it flows, and enriched 
the meadows near its banks. It has satisfied the thirst of 
the flocks that are feeding aloft on the hills, and perhaps 
refreshed the shepherd's boy who sits watching his mas- 
ter's sheep hard by. It then quietly finishes its current 
in this secluded dell, and, agreeably to the design of its 
Creator, quickly vanishes in the ocean. 

" May my course be like unto thine, thou little rivulet ! 
Though short be my span of life, yet may I be useful to 
my fellow sinners, as I travel onward ! Let me be a dis- 
penser of spiritual support and health to many ! Like this 
stream, may I prove 'the poor man's friend' by the way, 
and water the souls that thirst for the river of life, where- 
ever I meet them ! — And, if it please thee, O my God ! 
let me in my latter end be like this brook. It calmly, 
though not quite silently, flows through this scene of 
peace and loveliness, just before it enters the sea. Let 
me thus gently close my days likewise ; and may I not 
unusefully tell to others of the goodness and mercy of our 
Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of eternity ! 

"Thither," thought I, "little Jane is fast hastening. 
Short, but not useless, has been her course. I feel the 
great importance of it in my own soul at this moment. I 
view a work of mercy there, to which I do hope I am not 
quite a stranger in the experience of my own heart. The 
thought enlivens my spirit, and leads me to see, that, great 
as is the power of sin, the power of Jesus is greater : and, 
through grace, I may meet my dear young disciple, my 
child in the gospel, my sister in the faith, in a brighter, a 
better world hereafter." 

There was something in the whole of this meditation, 
which calmed and prepared my mind for my promised 

17 



194 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



visit the next day. I looked forward to it with affectionate 
anxiety. 

It was now time to return homeward. The sun was 
setting*. The lengthened shadows of the cliffs, and of the 
hills towering again far above them, cast a brown but not 
unpleasing tint over the waters of the bay. Further on, 
the beams of the sun still maintained their splendor. 
Some of the sails of the distant ships, enlivened by its 
rays, appeared like white spots in the blue horizon, and 
seemed to attract my notice, as if to claim at least the 
passing prayer, " God speed the mariners on their voyage !" 

I quitted my retreat in the cliff with some reluctance ; 
but with a state of mind, as I hoped, solemnized by reflec- 
tion, and animated to fresh exertion. 

I walked up by a steep pathway, that winded through 
the trees and shrubs on the sides of one of the precipices. 
At every step the extent of prospect enlarged, and ac- 
quired a new and varying character, by being seen through 
the trees on each side. Climbing up a kind of rude, in- 
artificial set of stone stairs in the bank, I passed by the 
singularly-situated cottages which I had viewed from be- 
neath ; received and returned the evening salutation of the 
inhabitants, sitting at their doors, and just come home from 
labor ; till I arrived at the top of the precipice, where I 
had left my horse tied to a gate. 

Could he have enjoyed it, he had a noble prospect around 
him in every direction from this elevated point of view, 
where he had been stationed while I was on the shore be- 
low. But wherein he most probably failed, I think his 
rider did not. The landscape, taken in connection with my 
recent train of thought about myself and little Jane, in- 
spired devotion. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



195 



The sun was now set : the bright colors of the western 
clouds faintly reflected from the southeastern hills, that 
were unseen from my retreat in the cliff, or only perceived 
by their evening shadows on the sea, now added to the 
beauty of the prospect on the south and west. Every ele- 
ment contributed to the interesting effect of the scenery. 
The earth was diversified in shape and ornament. The 
waters of the ocean presented a noble feature in the land- 
scape. The air was serene, or only ruffled by a refresh- 
ing breeze from the shore. And the sun's fiery beams, 
though departing for the night, still preserved such a por- 
tion of light and warmth, as rendered all the rest delight- 
ful to an evening traveller. From this point the abyss, 
occasioned by the great fissure in the cliff, appeared grand 
and interesting. Trees hung over it on each side, pro- 
jecting not only their branches, but many of their roots in 
wild and fantastic forms. Masses of earth had recently 
fallen from the upper to the lower parts of the precipice., 
carrying trees and plants down the steep descent. The 
character of the soil, and the unceasing influence of the 
stream at the bottom, seemed to threaten further slips of 
the land from the summit. From hence the gentle mur- 
mur of the cascade at the head of the chine stole upon the 
ear without much interruption to the quietness of the 
scene. A fine rocky cliff, half buried in trees, stood erect 
on the land side about a mile distant, and seemed to vie 
with those on the shore, in challenging the passenger's 
attention. In the distance stood a noble ash-tree, which, 
on a considerable height, majestically reigned as the pa- 
triarch of the grove near which it grew. Every object 
combined to please the eye, and direct the traveller's heart 



196 



THE YOr>'G- COTTAGES. 



to admire and love the Author and Creator of all that is 
beautiful to sense, and edifying to the soul, 

The next morning I went to Jane's cottage. On enter- 
ing the door, the woman who so frequently visited her, met 
me, and said : 

" Perhaps, sir, you will not wake her just yet : for she 
has dropped asleep, and she seldom gets much rest, poor 
girl." 

I went gently up-stairs. 

The child was in a half-sitting posture, leaning her head 
upon her right hand, with her Bible open before her. She 
had evidently fallen asleep while reading. Her counte- 
nance was beautifully composed and tranquil. A few 
tears had rolled down her cheek, and (probably unknown 
to her) dropped upon the pages of her book. 

I looked around me for a moment. The room was out- 
wardly comfortless and uninviting : the walls out of re- 
pair : the sloping roof somewhat shattered ; the floor 
broken and uneven ; no furniture, but two tottering bed- 
steads, a three-legged stool, and an old oak chest — the 
window broken in many places, and mended with patches 
of paper. A little shelf against the wall, over the bed- 
stead where Jane lay, served for her physic, her food, and 
her books. 

M Yet liere" I said to myself, ' ; lies an heir of glory, 
waiting for a happy dismissal. Her earthly home is poor 
indeed : but she has a house, not made with hands, eter- 
nal in the heavens. She has little to attach her to this 
world : but what a weight of glory in the world to come \ 
This mean, despised chamber is a palace in the eye of 
faith, for it contains one that is inheritor of a crown." 

I approached without waking her, and observed that 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



197 



she had been reading the twenty-third chapter of St. Luke. 
The finger of her left hand lay upon the book, pointing to 
the words, as if she had been using it to guide her eye 
whilst she read. 

I looked at the place, and was pleased at the apparently 
casual circumstance of her finger pointing at these words : 

" Lord, remember me, when thou comest into thy king- 
dom." 

" Is this casual or designed thought I — " Either way 
it is remarkable." 

But in another moment I discovered that her finger was 
indeed an index to the thoughts of her heart. 

She half awoke from her dozing state, but not sufficient- 
ly so to perceive that any person was present, and said, in 
a kind of whisper, 

" Lord, remember me — Remember me — Remember — 
Remember a poor child — Lord, remember me 

She then suddenly started, and perceived me, as she 
became fully aw T ake — a faint blush overspread her cheeks 
for a moment, and then disappeared. 

" Dame K , how ]ong have I been asleep 1 — Sir, 1 

am very sorry " 

" And I am very glad to find you thus," I replied ; 'you 
may say with David, 1 1 laid me down and slept ; I awaked, 
for the Lord sustained me.' What were you reading V 9 

" The history of the crucifying of Jesus, sir." 

" How far had you read when you fell asleep V 9 

" To the prayer of the thief that was crucified with 
him ; and when I came to that place I stopped, and thought 
what a mercy it would be, if the Lord Jesus should re- 
member me likewise — and so I fell asleep, and I fancied, 
in my dream, that I saw Christ upon the cross; and I 

17* 



193 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER* 



thought I said, 8 Lord, remember me' — and I am sure he 
did not look angry upon me — and then I awoke." 

All this seemed to be a sweet commentary on the text, 
and a most suitable forerunner of our intended sacramen- 
tal service. 

" Well, my dear child, I am come, as you wished me, 
to administer the sacrament of the body and blood of our 

blessed Saviour to you ; and I dare say neighbor K 

will be glad to join us." 

" Talk to me a little about it first, sir, if you please." 

" You remember what you have learned in your Cate- 
chism about it. Let us consider. — A sacrament, you 
know, is 1 an outward and visible sign of an inward and 
spiritual grace, given unto us, ordained by Christ himself, 
as a means whereby we receive the same, and a pledge to 
assure us thereof.' Now the Lord has ordained bread and 
wine in the holy supper, as the outward mark, which we 
behold with our eyes. It is a sign, a token, a seal of his 
love, grace, and blessing, which he promises to, and be- 
stows on, all who receive it, rightly believing on his name 
and work. He, in this manner, preserves amongst us a 
4 continual remembrance of his death, and of the benefits 
which we receive thereby.' " 

44 What do you believe respecting the death of Christ, 
Jenny V* 

44 That because he died, sir, we live." 
44 What life do we live thereby 7" 

44 The life of grace and mercy now, and the life of glory 
and happiness hereafter : is it not, sir ?" 

44 Yes, assuredly : this is the fruit of the death of 
Christ : and thus he 4 opened the kingdom of heaven to 
all believers.' As bread and wine strengthen and refresh 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



199 



your poor weak fainting body in this very sickness, so 
does the blessing of his body and blood strengthen and re- 
fresh the souls of all that repose their faith, hope, and af- 
fections on Him who loved us and gave himself for us." 

Tears ran down her cheeks, as she said, 

" O ! what a Saviour ! — O ! what a sinner I — How kind 
— how good ! — And is this for me ?" 

" Fear not, dear child : He that has made you to love 
him thus, loves you too well to deny you. He will in no 
wise cast out any that come to him." 

" Sir," said the girl, " I can never think about Jesus 
and his love to sinners, without wondering how it can be. 
I deserve nothing but his anger on account of my sins. 
Why then does he love me? — My heart is evil. Why 
then does he love me 1 — I continually forget all his good- 
ness. Why then does he love me ] — I neither pray to 
him, nor thank him, nor do any thing as I ought to do. 
Why then such love to me 1" 

" How plain it is, that all is mercy from first to last ! 
and that sweetens the blessing, my child. Are you not 
willing to give Christ all the honor of your salvation, and 
to take all the blame of your sins on your own self I" 

" Yes, indeed, sir, I am. My hymn says, 

* Blest be the Lord that sent his Son, 
To take our flesh and blood ; 
He for our lives gave up his own, 
To make our peace with God. 

' He honor'd all his Father's laws, 
Which we have disobey 'd ; 
He bore our sins upon the cross, 
And our full ransom paid." 

" I am glad you remember your hymns so well, Jennv." 



200 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



" Sir, you don't know what pleasure they give me. I 
am very glad you gave me that little book of Hymns for 
Children." 

A severe 'fit of coughing interrupted her speech for a 
while. The woman held her head. It was distressing to 
observe her struggle for breath, and almost, as it were, 
for life. 

" Poor dear !" said the woman, " I wish I could help 
thee, and ease thy pains : but they will not last for ever." 

" God helps me," said the girl, recovering her breath : 
" God helps me ; he will carry me through. Sir, you look 
frightened — I am not afraid — this is nothing — I am better 
now. Thank you, dame, thank you. I am very trouble- 
some ; but the Lord will bless you for this and all your 
kindness to me : yes, sir, and yours too. Now talk to me 
again about the sacrament." 

" What is required, Jenny, of them who come to the 
Lord's supper ] There are five things named in the Cate- 
chism — do you remember what is the first V 

She paused, and then said, with a solemn and intelligent 
look, — 

" To examine themselves whether they repent them 
truly of their former sins." 

"I hope and think that you know what this means, 
Jenny : the Lord has given you the spirit of repentance." 

" No one knows, sir, what the thoughts of past sin have 
been to me. Yes, the Lord knows, and that is enough : 
and I hope he forgives me for Christ's sake. His blood 
cleanseth from all sin. Sir, I sometimes think of my sins 
till I tremble, and it makes me cry to think that I have 
offended such a God : and then he comforts me again with 
sweet thoughts about Christ." 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



201 



" It is well, my child — be it so. The next thing men- 
tioned in that article of your Catechism, what is it V 9 

44 Steadfastly purposing to lead a new life." 

" And what do you think of that 1" 

" My life, sir, will be a short one ; and I wish it had 
been a better one. But from my heart I desire that it 
may be a new one, for the time to come. I want to forsake 
all my evil ways and thoughts, and evil words, and evil 
companions ; and to do what God bids me, and what you 
tell me is right, sir, and what I read of in my Bible. But 
I am afraid I do not, my heart is so full of sin. However, 
sir, I pray to God to help me. My days will be few ; but 
I wish they may be spent to the glory of God." 

" The blessing of the Lord be upon you, Jane ; so that, 
whether you live, you may live to the Lord : or whether 
you die, you may die unto the Lord ; and that, living or 
dying, you may be the Lord's. — What is the next thing 
mentioned ?" 

" To have a lively faith in God's mercy through Christ, 
sir." 

" Do you believe that God is merciful to you in the 
pardon of your sins?" 

44 I do, sir," said the child, earnestly. 

44 And if he pardons you, is it for your own sake, Jenny V 9 

" No, sir, no ; it is for Christ's sake, for my Saviour Je- 
sus Christ's sake, and that only — Christ is all." 

44 Can you trust him]" 

" Sir, I must not mistrust him ; nor would I if I might." 

44 Right, child ; he is worthy of all your trust." 

44 And then, sir, I am to have a thankful remembrance 
of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I think 
also what a poor unworthy creature I am ; and yet he is 



202 



the rovxrr corTArrir.. 



so good to me. I wish I could thank him. — Sir, I hi we 
been reading about his death. How could the people do 
as they did to him ! — but it was all for our salvation. And 
the thief on the cross — that is beautiful. I hope he will 
remember me too, and that I shall always remember him 
and his death most thankfully." 

"And lastly, Jenny, are you in charity with all men] 
Do you forgive all that have offended you ? Do you bear 
ill-will in your heart to anybody]" 

" Dear sir ! no ; how can I } If God is good to me, if 
he forgives me, how can I help forgiving others } There 
is not a person in all the world, I think, sir, that I do not 
wish well to for Christ's sake, and that from the bottom 
of my heart V 9 

" How do you feel towards those bold, wanton, ill-tem- 
pered girls at the next door, who jeer and mock you so 
about your religion V' 

" Sir, the worst thing I wish them is, that God may give 
them grace to repent ; that he may change their hearts, 
and pardon all their wicked ways and words. May he 
forgive them as I do with all my soul !" 

She ceased — I wished to ask no more. My heart was 
full. " Can this be the religion of a child V thought I ; 
" O that we were all children like her !" 

" Reach me that prayer-book, and the cup and plate. 
My dear friends. I will now, with God f s blessing, partake 
with you in the holy communion of our Lord's body and 
blood." 

The*time was sweet and solemn. I went through the 
sacramental service. 

The countenance and manner of the child evinced pow- 
erful feelings. Tears mingled with smiles : resignation 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



203 



brightened by hope ; humility animated by faith ; child- 
like modesty adorned with the understanding- of a riper 
age ; gratitude, peace, devotion, patience, — all these were 
visible. I thought I distinctly saw them all— and did I 
alone see them ] Is it too much to say that other created 
beings, whom I could not behold with my natural eyes, 
were witnesses of the scene 1 

If ministering angels do ascend and descend with glad 
tidings between earth and heaven, I think they did so then. 

When I had concluded the service, I said, 

" Now, my dear Jane, you are indeed become a sister in 
the church of Christ. May his Spirit and blessing rest 
upon you, — strengthen and refresh you !" 

" My mercies are great, very great, sir ; greater than I 
can express — I thank you for this favor — I thought I was 
too young — it seemed too much for me to think of : but I 
am now sure the Lord is good to me, and I hope I have 
done right." 

" Yes, Jenny ; and I trust you are both outwardly and 
inwardly sealed, by the Holy Ghost to the day of redemp- 
tion." 

" Sir, I shall never forget this day." 
" Neither, I think, shall I." 

" Nor I," said the good old woman : " sure the Lord has 
been in the midst of us three to-day, while we have been 
gathered together in his name." 

" Sir," said the child, " I wish you could speak to my 
mother, when you come again. But she keeps out of your 
sight. I am so grieved about her soul, and I am afraid 
she cares nothing at all about it herself." 

44 1 hope I shall have an opportunity the next time I 
come. Farewell, my child/' 



204 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



"Good-by, sir, and I thank you for all your kindness 
to me." 

"Surely," I thought within myself, as I left the cottage, 
" this young bud of grace will bloom beauteously in Para- 
dise. The Lord transplant her thither in his own good 
time ! Yet, if it be his will, may she live a little longer, 
that I may further profit by her conversation and example." 

Possibly, some who peruse these simple records of 
poor little Jane, may wish the same. If it be so, we will 
visit her again before she departs hence, and is no more 
seen. 



PART V. 

Jane was hastening fast to her dissolution. She still, 
however, preserved sufficient strength to converse with 
much satisfaction to herself and those who visited her. 
Such as could truly estimate the value of her spiritual 
state of mind were but few ; yet the most careless could 
not help being struck with her affectionate seriousness, 
her knowledge of the Scriptures, and her happy applica- 
tion of them to her own case. 

" The holy spark divine," 

which regenerating grace had implanted in her life, had 
kindled into a flame which warmed and animated the be- 
holder. To some, I am persuaded, her example and con- 
versation were made a blessing. Memory reflects with 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



205 



gratitude, whilst I write, on the profit and consolation 
which I individually derived from her society. Nor I 
alone. The last day will, if I err not, disclose further 
fruits, resulting from the love of God to this little child ; 
and, through her, to others that saw her. And may not 
hope indulge the prospect, that this simple memorial of 
her history shall be as one arrow drawn from the quiver 
of the Almighty to reach the hearts of the young and the 
thoughtless ] Direct its course, O my God ! May the 
eye that reads, and the ear that hears, the record of little 
Jane, through the power of the Spirit of the Most Highest, 
each become a witness for the truth as it is in Jesus ! 

I remembered the tender solicitude of this dear child 
for her mother. I well knew what an awful contrast the 
dispositions and conduct of her parents exhibited, when 
compared with her own. 

I resolved to avail myself of the first opportunity I could 
seize to speak to the mother in the child's presence. The 
woman had latterly avoided me, conscious of deserving, 
and fearful of receiving, reproof. The road by which I 
usually approached the house, lay, for some little distance, 
sufficiently in sight of its windows, to enable the woman 
to retire out of the way before I arrived. There was, 
however, another path, through fields at the back of the 
village, which, owing to the situation of the ground, al- 
lowed of an approach unperceived, till a visiter reached 
the very cottage itself. 

One morning, soon after the sacramental interview re- 
lated in my last paper, I chose this road for my visit. It 
was preferable to me on every account. The distance 
was not quite half a mile from my house. The path was 
retired. I hereby avoided the noise and interruption 

18 



206 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



which even a village street will sometimes present to dis- 
turb the calmness of interesting meditation. 

As I passed through the churchyard, and cast my eye 
on the memorable epitaph. "Soon." I thought within me, 
s< will my poor little Jane mingle her mouldering remains 
with this dust, and sleep with her fathers ! Soon will the 
youthful tongue, which now lisps Hosannas to the Son of 
David, and delights my heart with the evidences of early 
piety and grace, be silent in the earth ! Soon shall I be 
called to commit her 1 body to the ground, earth to earth, 
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' But O ! what a glorious 
change ! Her spirit shall have then returned to God which 
gave it. Her soul will be joining the hallelujahs of Para- 
dise, while we sing her requiem at the grave. And her 
very dust shall here wait, 4 in sure and certain hope of a 
joyful resurrection from the dead.' " 

I went through the fields without meeting a single in- 
dividual. I enjoyed the retirement of my solitary walk : 
various surrounding objects contributed to excite useful 
meditation, connected with the great subjects of time and 
eternity. Here and there a drooping flower reminded me 
of the fleeting nature of mortal life. Sometimes a shady 
spot taught me to look to Him who is "a shadow in the 
day-time from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for 
a covert from storm and from rain." If a worm crept 
across my path, I saw an emblem of myself as I am now ; 
and the winged insects, fluttering in the sunbeams, led 
me comparatively to reflect on what I hoped to be here- 
after. 

The capacious mansion of a rich neighbor appeared on 
the right hand, as I walked ; on my left were the cottages 
of the poor. The church spire pointing to heaven a little 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



207 



beyond, seemed to say to both the rich and the poor, 
" Set your affections on things above, not on things on the 
earth." 

All these objects afforded me useful meditation ; and all 
obtained an increased value, as such, because they lay in 
my road to the house of little Jane. 

I was now arrived at the stile nearly adjoining her 
dwelling. The upper window was open, and I soon dis- 
tinguished the sound of voices : I was glad to hear that 
of the mother. I entered the house-door unperceived by 
those above stairs, and sat down below, not wishing as yet 
to interrupt a conversation which quickly caught my ear. 

" Mother ! mother ! I have not long to live. My time 
will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say some- 
thing for your sake, before I die. O mother ! you have a 
soul — you have a soul ; and what will become of it when 
you die J" O my mother ! I am so uneasy about your 
soul—" 

" O dear ! I shall lose my child — she will die — and 
what shall I do when you are gone, my Jenny !" She 
sobbed aloud. 

"Mother, think about your soul. Have not you ne- 
glected that]" 

" Yes, I have been a wicked creature, and hated all that 
was good. What can I do ?" 

" Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you for 
Christ's sake. You must pray." 

" Jenny, my child, I cannot pray ; I never did pray in 
all my life. I am too wicked to pray." 

" Mother, I have been wanting to speak to you a long 
time. But I was afraid to do it. You did not like me to 
say any thing about religion, and I did not know how to 



203 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



begin. But indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it may 

be too late. I wish 3Ir. was here, for he could talk 

to you better than I can. But perhaps you will think of 
what I say, poor as it is, when I am dead. I am but a 
young child, and not fit to speak about such things to any- 
body. But, mother, you belong to me, and I cannot bear 
to think of your perishing for ever. My Lord and Saviour 
has shown me my own sin and corruptions : he loved me 
and gave himself for me : he died and he rose again : I 
want to praise him for it for ever and ever. I hope I shall 
see him in heaven ; but I want to see you there too, 
mother. Do, pray do, leave crT swearing and other bad 
ways : go to church, and hear our minister speak about 
Jesus Christ, and what he has done for wicked sinners. 
He wishes well to souls. He taught me the way, and he 
will teach you, mother. Why did you always go out of 
the house when you knew he was coming] Do not be 
angry with me, mother ; I only speak for your good. I 
was once as careless as you are about the things of God. 
But I have seen my error. I was in the broad road lead- 
ing to destruction, like many other children in the parish; 
and the Lord saw me and had mercy upon me." 

" Yes, my child, you was always a good girl, and minded 
your book/ ' 

" No, mother, no ; not always. I cared nothing about 
goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent 
for us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don't you 
remember, mother, that at first you did not like me to go, 
and said you would have no such godly pious doings about 
your house ; and that I had better play about the streets 
and fields than be laughed at and made game of for pre- 
tending to be so good } Ah, mother, you did not know 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



209 



what I went for, and what God designed for me and my 
poor sinful soul. But, thank God, I did go, and there 
learned the way of salvation. Mother, I wish you had 
learned too." 

As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appeared 
to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's voice, 
that she was more under the influence of temporary grief, 
on account of her child's extreme illness, than sincere 
sorrow from any real sense of her sins. I however hoped 
the best, and rejoiced to hear such weighty and important 
exhortation dropping from her daughter's lips. I felt that 
present circumstances rendered it far more valuable than 
my own could have been. 

I have often, since that time, seen the wicked and care- 
less much affected, while sitting by the dying bed of a 
near relative : I have witnessed their temporary acknow- 
ledgments of sin, and heard their professions of amend- 
ment. But after a short season, all has passed away like 
the morning dew. The friend has been buried out of 
sight. The world and its cares, the flesh and its sins, 
have returned with new temptations, and the eloquence 
of iniquity has prevailed over the voice of truth. " The 
dog has returned to his vomit, and the sow to her wallow- 
ing in the mire." 

On the other hand, how frequently have the death-beds 
of true believers been blessed to the eye-witness of the 
triumphs of grace over sin, death, and hell ! Often has 
the careless bystander received the first saving impression 
of divine truth, whilst the dying Christian has experienced 
and testified the supports of love and mercy, in the trying 
hour. At such seasons, faith wields a bright and burning 
torch, which occasionally softens the hardest, and warms 
18* 



210 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



the coldest heart. The expressions of that heavenly con- 
solation and devout solicitude, which the Holy Spirit 
vouchsafes to some, thus become the happy means of 
grace and blessing for the conversion and edification of 
others. 

"He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit 
saith unto the churches !" 

At this moment the house-door opened, and a younger 
child, a brother of Jane's, came in. The mother asked 
from above who it was : the boy replied, and, without fur- 
ther inquiry, she remained in the chamber. I beckoned 
to the lad to sit down quietly ; and thus it still remained 
unknown that I was below. 

"Mother," continued Jane, "that is my brother, and 
will soon be your only remaining child. Do, pray, en- 
courage him to follow good ways. Send him to Mr. , 

and he will be kind to him, as he has been to me. 
He is a wild boy, but I hope he will be brought to think 
about his soul in time. Those naughty wicked boys teach 
him to swear and fight, and run after all manner of evil. 
Lord, help him to flee from the wrath to come !" 

I made a sign to the boy to listen to what his sister said 
concerning him. He seemed to hear with attention, and 
a tear dropped down his cheek. 

" Ay, Jenny, it is to be hoped he will, and that we all 
shall likewise." 

" Mother, then you must flee to Christ. Nothing you 
can do will save you without that. You must repent and 
turn from sin — without the grace of God you cannot do it; 
but seek, and you shall find it. Do, for your own sake, 
and for my sake, and my little brother's sake." 

The woman wept and sobbed without replying. I now 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



211 



thought it time to appear, went to the bottom of the stairs, 
and said, " May a friend come up V 9 

"Mercy on me !" said the mother, "there is Mr. ." 

" Come in, sir," said Jane ; " I am very glad you are 
come now. Mother, set a chair." 

The woman look confused. Jane smiled as I entered, 
and welcomed me as usual. 

" I hope I shall be forgiven, both by mother and 
daughter, for having remained so long below stairs, during 
the conversation which has just taken place. I came in 
the hope of finding you together, as I have had a wish for 
some time past to speak to you, Sarah, on the same sub- 
jects, about which I am happy to say your daughter is so 
anxious. You have long neglected these things, and I 
wished to warn you of the danger of your state — but Jenny 
has said all I could desire, and I now solemnly ask you, 
whether you are not much affected by your poor child's 
faithful conversation 1 You ought to have been her teacher 
and instructor in the ways of righteousness ; whereas 
now she has become yours. Happy, however, will it be 
for you if you are wise, and consider your latter end, and 
the things which belong to your peace, before they are 
hidden from your eyes ! Look at your dying child, and 
think of your other and only remaining one, and say whether 
this sight does not call aloud upon you to hear and fear." 

Jane's eyes were filled with tears whilst I spoke. The 
woman hung her head down, but betrayed some emotions 
of dislike at the plain dealing used towards her. 

"My child Jenny," said I, "how are you to-day?" 
"Sir, I have been talking a good deal, and feel rather 
faint and weary, but my mind has been very easy and 
happy since I last saw you. I am quite willing to die, 



212 



THE TOUXa COTTAGEE. 



when the Lord sees fit. I have no wish to live, except it 
be to see my friends in a better way before I depart. Sir, 
I used to be afraid to speak to them ; but I feel to-day as 
if I could hold my peace no longer, and I must tell them 
what the Lord has done for my soul, and what I feel for 
theirs."' 

There was a firmness, I may say, a dignity, with which 
this was uttered, that surprised me- The character of the 
child seemed to be lost in that of the Christian : her natu- 
ral timidity yielded to a holy assurance of manner, result- 
ing from her own inward consolations, mingled with 
spiritual desire for her mother's welfare. This pro- 
duced a flush upon her otherwise pallid countenance, 
which in no small degree added to her interesting ap- 
pearance. The Bible lay open before her as she sat 
up in the bed. With her right hand she enclosed her 
mother's. 

" Mother, this book you cannot read : you should there- 
fore go constantly to church, that you may hear it ex- 
plained. It is God's book, and tells us the way to 
heaven ; I hope you will learn and mind it ; with God's 
blessing it may yet save your soul. Do think of that, mo- 
ther, pray do. I am soon going to die. Give this Bible 
to my brother : and will you be so kind, sir, as to instruct 
him ] Mother, remember what I say, and this gentleman 
is witness : there is no salvation for sinners like you and 
me but in the blood of Christ ; he is able to save to the 
uttermost : he will save all that come to him ; he waits 
to be gracious ; cast yourself upon his mercy. I wish — 
I wish — I — I — I — " 

She was quite overcome, and sunk away in a kind of 
fainting fit. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



213 



Her mother observed, that she would now probably re- 
main insensible for some time, before she recovered. 

I improved this interval in a serious address to the 
woman, and then prepared to take my departure, perceiv- 
ing that Jane was too much exhausted for further conver- 
sation at that time. 

As I was leaving- the room, the child said faintly, " Come 
again soon, sir ; my time is very short." 

I returned home by the same retired road which I had 
before chosen. I silently meditated on the eminent proofs 
of piety and faith which were just afforded me in the 
scene I had witnessed. 

Surely, I thought, this is an extraordinary child ! What 
cannot grace accomplish ? Is it possible to doubt, after 
this, who is the alone Author and Finisher of salvation ; 
or from whom cometh every good and perfect gift 1 How 
rich and free is the mercy of Jehovah ! Hath not he 
" chosen the weak things of the world to confound the 
things which are mighty ] Let no flesh glory in his pre- 
sence ; but he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord," 



PART VI. 

The truth and excellence of the religion of Jesus Christ 
appears to be remarkably established by the union of simi- 
larity with variety, in the effect which it produces on the 
hearts and lives of true believers. In the grand and es- 
sential features of Christian experience, the whole house- 



214 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



hold of God possess an universal sameness of character, a 
family likeness, which distinguishes them from all the 
world besides ; yet, in numerous particulars, there also 
exists a beautiful variety. 

On the one hand, in the aged and the young, in the wise 
and the unlearned, in the rich and the poor ; in those of 
stronger and weaker degrees of mental capacity, in more 
sanguine or more sedate dispositions ; and in a multitude 
of otherwise varying circumstances, there is a striking 
conformity of principles and feeling to Christ, and to each 
other. Like the flowers of the field and the garden, they 
are " all rooted and grounded" in the soil of the same 
earth ; they are warmed by the same sun, refreshed by the 
same air, and watered by the same dews. They each de- 
rive nourishment, growth, and increase from the same life- 
giving Source. As the flower puts forth its leaves and 
petals, adorns the place which it inhabits with its beauty, 
and possesses an internal system of qualities, whereby it 
is enabled to bring forth its seed or fruit, in the appointed 
season ; so does the Christian. 

But, on the other hand, like the flowers also, some 
Christians may be said to grow on the mountain tops, 
some in valleys, some in the waters, and others in dry 
ground. Different colors, forms, and sizes, distinguish 
them from each other, and produce a diversity of charac- 
ter and appearance, which affords a delightful variety, both 
for the purposes of use and beauty. Yet is that variety 
perfectly consistent with their essential unity of nature 
in the vegetable kingdom, to which they all equally 
belong. 

In another particular they likewise resemble. They 
both die a natural death. The Lord ever preserves " a 



THE TOL'NG COTTAGEE. 



215 



seed to serve him," from generation to generation ; for 
as one disappears, another springs up to supply his place. 
But 44 it is appointed unto all men once to die." — " Man 
cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down ; he fleeth as 
a shadow, and continueth not." — " All flesh is as grass, 
and all the glory of man as the flower of the grass. The 
grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away." 

In the midst of such diversity of Christian characters 
there is much to love and admire. I have selected the 
case of little Jane, as one not undeserving of notice. 

It is true, she was only a child—a very poor child — but 
a child saved by divine grace, enlightened with the purest 
knowledge, and adorned with unaffected holiness, — she 
was a child, humble, meek, and lowly. She 44 found grace 
in the eyes of the Lord," while she was on earth ; and, I 
doubt not, will be seen on his right hand at the last day. 
As such, there is preciousness in the character, which will 
account for my attempting once more to write concerning 
her, and describe her last moments before she went to her 
final rest. 

At a very early hour on the morning of the following 
day, I was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bringing 
an earnest request that I would immediately go to the 
child, as her end appeared to be just approaching. 

It was not yet day when I left my house to obey the 
summons. The morning star shone conspicuously clear. 
The moon cast a mild light over the prospect, but grad- 
ually diminished in brightness as the eastern sky became 
enlightened. The birds were beginning their songs, and 
seemed ready to welcome the sun's approach. The dew 
plentifully covered the fields, and hung suspended in drops 
from the trees and hedges. A few early laborers appear- 



216 



THE YOUNG COTTAGEE. 



ed in the lanes, travelling towards the scene of their daily 
occupations. 

All besides was still and calm. My mind, as I pro- 
ceeded, was deeply exercised by thoughts concerning the 
affecting events which I expected soon to witness. 

The rays of the morning star were not so beautiful in 
my sight, as the spiritual lustre of this young Christian's 
character. " Her night was far spent ;" the morning of a 
" better day was at hand." The sun of eternal blessed- 
ness was ready to break upon her soul with rising glory. 
Like the moon, which I saw above me, this child's exem- 
plary deportment had gently cast a useful light over the 
neighborhood where she dwelt. Like this moon, she had 
for a season been permitted to shine amidst the surround- 
ing darkness ; and her rays were also reflected from a lu- 
minary, in whose native splendor her own would quickly 
be blended and lost. 

The air was cool, but the breezes of the morning were 
refreshing, and seemed to foretell the approach of a beau- 
tiful day. Being accustomed, in my walks, to look for sub- 
jects of improving thought and association, I found them 
in every direction around me, as I hastened onward to the 
house where Jane lay, waiting for a dismissal from her 
earthly dwelling. 

I felt that the twilight gravity of nature was* at that 
hour, peculiarly appropriate to the circumstances of the 
case : and the more so, because that twilight was signifi- 
cantly adorned with the brilliant sparklings of the star on 
one hand, and the clear pale lustre of the waning moon 
on the other, 

When I arrived at the house, I found no one below ; I 
paused a few minutes, and heard the girl's voice very 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



217 



faintly saying, " Do you think he will come 1 I should be 
so glad — so very glad to see him before I die." 

I ascended the stairs— her father, mother, and brother, 
together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were 
in the chamber, Jane's countenance bore the marks of 
speedy dissolution. Yet, although death was manifest in 
the languid features, there was something more than ever 
interesting in the whole of her external aspect. The mo- 
ment she saw me, a renewed vigor beamed in her eye — 
grateful affection sparkled in the dying face. 

Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet for 
some time afterward she was silent, but never took her 
eyes off me. There was animation in her look — there was 
more — something like a foretaste of heaven seemed to be 
felt, and gave an inexpressible character of spiritual 
beauty, even in death. 

At length she said, " This is very kind, sir, — I am going 
fast — I was afraid I should never see you again in this 
world.'' 

I said, " My child, are you resigned to die V 9 
" Quite." 

" Where is your hope V 

She lifted up her finger, pointed to heaven, and then 
directed the same downward to her own heart, saying suc- 
cessively as she did so, " Christ there, and Christ here." 

These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her 
meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived. 

A momentary spasm took place. — Looking towards her 
weeping mother, she said, " I am very cold — but it is no 
matter — it will soon be over 

She closed her eyes for about a minute, and, on opening 
them again, said, " I wish, sir, when I am gone, you would 
19 



218 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER* 



tell the other children of the parish, how good the Lord 
has heen to me, a poor sinner — tell them, that they who 
seek him early will find him — tell them, that the ways of 
sin and ignorance are the ways to ruin and hell — and pray 
tell them, sir, from me, that Christ is indeed the Way, the 
Truth, and the Life — he will in no wise cast out any that 
come. — Tell them that I, a poor girl " 

She was quite exhausted, and sank for a while into a 
torpid state, from which, however, she recovered gradually, 
uttering these expressions : " Where am 1 1 — I thought I 
was going — Lord, save me !" 

" My dear child, you will soon be for ever in his arms, 
who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the 
valley of the shadow of death." 

"I believe so, indeed I do," said she; "I long to be 
with him ! — O how good, how great, how merciful ! — Jesus, 
save me, help me through this last trial." 

She then gave one hand to her father, the other to her 
mother, and said, " God bless you, God bless you — seek 
the Lord, — think of me, when I am gone — it may be for 
your good — remember your souls — O ! for Christ's sake 
remember your souls — -then all may be well — you cannot 
know what I have felt for both of you — Lord, pardon and 
save my dear father and mother !" 

She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, 
" Thomas, I beg you to leave off your bad ways — read the 
Bible — I give you mine — I have found it a precious book. 
Do you not remember our little brother, who died some 
years since 1 — he was praying to the last moment of his 
life. Learn to pray, while you are in health, and you will 
find the comfort and power of it when you come to die ; 
but, first of all, pray for a new heart — without it you never 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



219 



will see God in heaven — your present ways lead to misery 
and ruin — may the Lord turn your heart to love and fol- 
low him !" 

To the other woman she said, " I thank you, Dame 

K , for all your kindness, since I have heen ill — you 

have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope the Lord 
will remember you for it, according to his rich mercy : — 
you and I have many a time talked together about death ; 
and though I am the youngest, he calls me first to pass 
through it : but, blessed be his name, I am not terrified. 
I once thought I never could die without fear ; but indeed 
I feel quite happy, now it is come ; and so will you, if you 
trust him — he is the God both of the old and the young." 

" Ah, my child !" said the woman, " I wish I was as fit to 
die as you are ; but I fear that will never be — my sins 
have been many, very many.'* 

" Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child. 

At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through 
the fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather 
fresh strength. She turned to me with a look of surpris- 
ing earnestness and animation, saying, 

" You, sir, have been my best friend on earth — you have 
taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank you 
for it — you have borne with my weakness and my igno- 
rance — you have spoken to me of the love of Christ, and 
he has made me to feel it in my heart — I shall see him 
face to face — he will never leave me nor forsake me — 
he is the same, and changes not. Dear sir, God bless 
you." 

The child suddenly rose up, with an unexpected exer- 
tion, threw her livid, wasted arms around me, as I sat on 
the bedside, laid her head on my shoulder, and said dis- 



220 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



tinctly, " God bless and reward you — give thanks for me 
to Him — my soul is saved — Christ is every thing to me. 
Sir, we shall meet in heaven, shall we not 1 — O yes, yes 
— then all will be peace — peace — peace — " 

She sank back on the bed, and spoke no more — fetched 
a deep sigh — smiled — and died. 

At this affecting moment the rays of the morning sun 
darted into the room, and filled my imagination with the 
significant emblem of " the tender mercy of God, whereby 
the day-spring from on high hath visited us, to give light 
to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to 
guide our feet into the way of peace." 

It was a beam of light, that seemed at once to describe 
the glorious change which her soul had now already ex- 
perienced ; and, at the same time, to shed the promised 
consolations of hope over the minds of those who witnessed 
her departure. 

This was an incident obviously arising from a natural 
cause ; but one wmich irresistibly connected itself with the 
spiritual circumstances of the case. 

For some time I remained silently gazing on the breath- 
less corpse, and could hardly persuade myself that Jane 
was indeed no longer there. 

As I returned homeward, I found it difficult to repress 
the strong feelings of affection, which such a scene had 
excited. Neither did I wish it. Religion, reason, and ex- 
perience, rather bid us indulge, in due place and season, 
those tender emotions which keep the heart alive to its 
most valuable sensibilities. To check them serves but to 
harden the mind, and close the avenues which lead to the 
sources of our best principles of action. 

Jesus himself wept over the foreseen sorrows of Jerusa- 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



221 



lem. He wept also at the grave of his friend Lazarus. 
Such an example consecrates the tear of affection, while 
it teaches us, " concerning them which are asleep, not to 
sorrow, as those which have no hope." 

I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject 
of the flight of a soul from this world to that of departed 
spirits. 

" Swifter than an arrow from the bow, or than the rays 
of light from the sun, has this child's spirit hastened, in 
obedience to its summons from God, to appear in his im- 
mediate presence. How solemn a truth is this for uni- 
versal consideration ! But, ' washed in the blood of the 
Lamb that was slain,' and happily made partaker of its 
purifying efficacy, she meets her welcome at the throne 
of God. She has nothing to fear from the frowns of divine 
justice. Sin, death, and hell, are all vanquished through 
the power of Him who hath made her more than conqueror. 
He will himself present her to his Father, as one of the 
purchased lambs of his flock — as one whom the Spirit of 
God 4 has sealed unto the day of redemption.' 

" What a change for her ! from that poor tattered cham- 
ber to the regions of Paradise ! from a bed of straw to the 
bosom of Abraham ! from poverty, sickness, and pain, to 
eternal riches, health, and joy ! from the condition of a 
decayed weary pilgrim in this valley of tears, to that of a 
happy traveller safely arrived at home, in the rest that re- 
maineth to the people of God ! 

" I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a truly 
parental tie. Yet how can I complain of that as lost, 
which God has found ] Her willing and welcome voice no 
longer seeks or imparts instruction here. But it is far 
better employed. The angels, who rejoiced over her when 

19* 



222 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



her soul first turned to God, who watched the progress of 
her short pilgrimage, and who have now carried her tri- 
umphantly to the heavenly hills, have already taught her 
to join 

1 In holy song, their own immortal strains.' 
Why then should I mourn 1 The whole prospect, as it 
concerns her, is filled with joy and immortality, 1 Death is 
swallowed up in victory.' " 

As I looked upon the dew-drops which rested on the 
grass and hung from the branches of the trees, I observ- 
ed that the sun's rays first filled them with beautiful and 
varied colors ; then dried them up, and they were seen no 
longer. 

Thus it was with myself. The tears which I neither 
would nor could restrain, when I first began thus to re- 
flect on the image of the dying chamber of little Jane, 
were speedily brightened by the vivid sunshine of hope 
and confidence. They then gradually yielded to the in- 
fluence of that divine principle which shall finally wipe 
the tear from every eye, and banish all sorrow and sighing 
for evermore. 

On the fourth day from thence, Jane was buried. I had 
never before committed a parishioner to the ground with 
similar affections. The attendants were not many, but I 
was glad to perceive among them some of the children 
who had been accustomed to receive my weekly private 
instruction along with her. 

I wished that the scene might usefully impress their 
young hearts, and that God would bless it to their edifi- 
cation. 

As I stood at the head of the grave, during the service, 
I connected past events, which had occurred in the church- 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



223 



yard, with the present. In this spot Jane first learned the 
value of that Gospel which saved her soul. Not many 
yards from her own burial-place, was the epitaph which 
has already been described as the first means of affecting 
her mind with serious and solemn conviction. It seemed 
to stand at this moment as a peculiar witness for those 
truths which its lines proclaimed to every passing reader. 
Such an association of objects produced a powerful effect 
on my thoughts. 

The evening was serene — nothing occurred to interrupt 
the quiet solemnity of the occasion. 

" Peace" was the last word little Jane uttered, while 
living ; and peace seemed to be inscribed on the farewell 
scene of the grave, where she was laid. A grateful re- 
membrance of that peace revives in my own mind, as I 
write these memorials of it ; and O ! may that peace 
which passeth all understanding, be in its most perfect 
exercise, when I shall meet her again at the last day. 

Attachment to the spot where this young Christian lay, 
induced me to plant a yew-tree, close by the head of her 
grave, adjoining the eastern wall of the church. I de- 
signed it as an evergreen monument of one who was dear 
to memory. The young plant appeared healthy for a 
while, and promised by its outward vigor long to retain its 
station. But it withered soon afterward, and like the 
child whose grave it pointed out to notice, early faded 
away and died. 

The yew-tree proved a frail and short-lived monument. 
But a more lasting one dwells in my own heart. And 
perhaps this narrative may be permitted to transmit her 
memory to other generations, when the hand and heart of 
the writer shall be cold in the dust, 



224 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 



Perchance some, into whose hands these pages may fall, 
will be led to cultivate their spiritual young plants with 
increased hope of success, in so arduous an endeavor. 
May the tender blossoms reward their care, and bring forth 
early and acceptable fruit ! 

Some, who have perhaps been accustomed to undervalue 
the character of very youthful religion, may hereby see 
that the Lord of grace and glory is not limited in the ex- 
ercise of his power by age or circumstance. It sometimes 
appears in the displays of God's love to sinners, as it does 
in the manifestations of his works in the heavens, that the 
least of the planets moves in the nearest course to the 
sun ; and there enjoys the most powerful influence of his 
light, heat, and attraction. 

The story of this Young Cottager involves a clear evi- 
dence of the freeness of the operations of divine grace on 
the heart of man ; of the inseparable connection between 
true faith and holiness of disposition ; and of the simpli- 
city of character which a real love of Christ transfuses 
into the soul. 

How many of the household of faith, in every age, 

" Alike unknown to fortune and to fame," 

have journeyed and are now travelling to their " city of 
habitation," through the paths of modest obscurity and al- 
most unheeded piety ! It is one of the most interesting 
employments of the Christian minister to search out these 
spiritual lilies of the valley, whose beauty and fragrance 
are nearly concealed in their shady retreats. To rear the 
flower, to assist in unfolding its excellences, and bring 
forth its fruit in due season, is a work that delightfully 
recompenses the toil of the cultivator. 



\ 



THE YOUNG- COTTAGER. 225 

While he is occupied in this grateful task of laboring 
in his heavenly Master's garden, some blight, some tem- 
pest may chance to take away a favorite young blossom, 
in a premature stage of its growth. 

If such a case should befall him, he will then, perhaps, 
as I have often done, when standing in pensive recollec- 
tion at little Jane's grave, make an application of these 
lines, which are inscribed on a grave-stone erected in the 
same churchyard, and say, 

" This lovely bud, so young and fair, 
Call'd hence by early doom, 
Just came to show how sweet a flower 
In Paradise would bloom." 



THE END OF THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



THE 



COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 



As I journeyed late on a summer evening, meditating 
on the beauties of the prospect around me, while they 
gradually faded from my sight, through the approach of 
darkness, it grew suddenly quite gloomy, and a black 
cloud hanging over my head threatened a heavy shower 
of rain. The big drops began to fall, and an open shed, 
adjoining to a laborer's cottage, offering me a seasonable 
shelter, I dismounted from my horse, and found it large 
enough to protect him as well as myself. 

The circumstance reminded me of tnc nappy privilege 
of the believing sinner, who finds a " refuge from the 
storm, and the blast of the terrible ones, in the love of his 
Redeemer, ,, which prepares him "a covert from storm and 
from rain.' , I went in unperceived ; the door of the cot- 
tage was half open, and I heard the voices of a poor man. 
his wife, and some children within. 

I was hesitating whether to go into the house and make 
myself known, or to enjoy in solitude a meditation on the 
foregoing comparison, which my situation had brought to 
my mind, when these words, spoken in a calm and affec- 



2'2S THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 

tionate tone, struck me with mingled pleasure and sur- 
prise, and determined me not to interrupt the conversa- 
tion : 

- Indeed, wife, you are in the wrong. Riches would 
never make us happier, so long as the Lord sees it good 
that we should be poor." 

"Well," replied the wife. "I can see no harm in 
wishing for more money and better living, than we 
have at present. Other people have risen in the world : 
and why should not we ! There's neighbor Sharp has 
done well for his family, and, for any thing I can see, 
will be one of the richest farmers in the parish, if he 
lives : and everybody knows, he was once as poor as 
we are : while you and I are laboring and toiling from 
morning to night, and can but just get enough to fill our 
children's mouths, and keep ourselves coarsely clothed, 
and hardly that." 

let us therewith be content. And, if it please God that 
even these things should fall short, let us submit ourselves 
to God in patience and well-doing, for he gives us more 
than we deserve." 

" There, now you are got to preaching again," said the 
woman ; " you never give me an answer, but you must 
always go to your Bible to help you out." 

" And where can I go so well ! M replied the husband : 
"is it not God's own word for our instruction?" 

M Well, that may be, but I don't like so much of it," an- 
swered she. 

M And I do not like so little of it, as I see and hear from 
you," returned the man. 

u Why that book has taught me, that it is an honor and 



THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 



229 



comfort to be a poor man ; and by the blessing of the 
Spirit of God, I believe and feel it to be true. I have, 
through mercy, always been enabled to get the bread of 
honest industry, and so have you; and though our chil- 
dren feed upon brown bread, and we cannot afford to 
buy them fine clothes, like some of our vain neighbors, 
to pamper their pride with ; yet, bless the Lord, they 
are as healthy and clean as any in the parish. Why then 
should you complain % Godliness with contentment is 
great gain." 

" An honor and a comfort to be a poor man, indeed ! 
What nonsense you talk ! What sort of honor and com- 
fort can that be ] I am out of patience with you, man," 
the wife sharply cried out. 

" I can prove it," replied he. 

" How ]" returned his partner, in no very pleasant tone 
of voice. 

"My dear," said the good man, "hear me quietly, and 
I will tell you. 

" I think it an honor, and I feel it a comfort, to be in that 
very station of life which my Saviour Jesus Christ was in 
before me. He did not come into the world as one that 
was rich and great, but as a poor man, who had not where 
to lay his head. I feel a blessing in my poverty, because 
Jesus, like me, was poor. Had I been a rich man, per- 
haps I should never have known nor loved him. ' For not 
many mighty, nor many noble are called/ God's people 
are chiefly found amongst the base things of the world, 
and things which are despised. This makes my poverty 
to be my comfort. 

" Besides, hath not God chosen the poor of this world, 
rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath 
20 



230 



THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 



promised to them that love him] This thought makes 
my poverty also to be my honor. 

" Moreover, to the poor the gospel was and is preached, 
and to my heart's delight I find it to be true, every Sun- 
day of my life. And is it not plain, all the neighborhood 
through, that while so many of our rich farmers, and 
tradesmen, and squires, are quite careless or set their 
faces against the ways of God, and are dead to every thing 
that is gracious and holy ; a great number of the poorest 
people are converted and live] I honor the rich for 
their station, but I do not envy them for their posses- 
sions. I cannot forget what Christ once said, 4 How hard- 
ly shall they that have riches, enter into the kingdom of 
God.' 

" Oh ! my dear w T ife, if you did but know how to set a 
right value upon the precious promises which God has 
made to the poor, how thankful should I be ! 

" The expectation of the poor shall not perish. He de- 
livereth the poor and needy from him that spoileth him. 
He has prepared of his goodness for the poor. The poor 
among men shall rejoice in the Hoiy One. For he became 
poor, that we, through his poverty, might be rich ; not in 
gold, but in grace. 

" These promises comfort my soul, and would make me 
happy, even if I were deprived of that which I now enjoy. 
I can trust my Saviour for this world, as well as for the 
next. He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him 
up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us 
all things ] 

" The Lord of his mercy bless you, my dear Sarah, with 
the grace of a contented mind !" 

Here the gracious man stopped : and whether affected 



THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 



231 



by her husband's discourse, or by any other cause, I know 
not, but she made no reply. He then said, " Come, chil- 
dren, it is our time for rest ; shut the door, and let us go 
to prayer." 

"Forgive me," said I, laying hold of the door, as the 
child was obeying her father's orders, " if I ask leave to 
make one in your family devotions, before I travel home- 
ward. I have heard you, my friend, when you knew it 
not, and bless God for the sermon which you have this 
night preached to my heart." 

The honest laborer blushed for a moment at this unex- 
pected intrusion and declaration, but immediately said, 
" Sir, you are welcome to a poor man's dwelling, if you 
come in the name of the Lord." 

I just looked around at the wife, who seemed to be 
startled at my sudden appearance, and the six fine chil- 
dren who sat near her, and then said, " You were going to 
pray ; I must beg of you, without regarding me, to go on, 
as if I were not here." 

The man, whom I could not but love and reverence, 
with a simple, unaffected, modest, and devout demeanor, 
did as I requested him. His prayer was full of tender af- 
fection and sincerity, expressed with great scriptural 
propriety, and was in all respects such as became the 
preacher of those sentiments which I had overheard him 
deliver to his wife just before. 

When he had finished, each of his children, accord- 
ing to the good old patriarchal custom of better days, 
kneeled down before him in turn to receive a father's 
blessing. 

It was now late, and the rain was over : I gave the poor 
man my blessing, and received his in return. I wished 



232 THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 

them good night, and went onward to my own home, 
reflecting with much self-abasement of heart, what an 
honor and comfort it is, to be a poor man, rich in the 
faith. 



ENS OF THE COTTAGE CONVERSATION. 



A 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



I went a few months since to visit a parishioner, then 
in the County Infirmary, within some miles of which I 
reside, and was informed that in an adjoining ward there 
lay a very good old man, confined by a mortification in his 
foot, who would take particular satisfaction in any Chris- 
tian conversation which my time would allow me to afford 
him. 

The nurse conducted me into a room, where I found 
him alone on a bed. The character of his countenance 
was venerable, cheerful, contented, and pious. His hoary 
hairs proclaimed him to be aged, although the liveliness 
in his eye was equal to that of the most vigorous youth. 

" How are you, my friend]" I said. 

" Very well, sir, very well. Never better in all my 
life. Thank God for all his mercies :" replied the man, 
with so cheerful a tone of voice, as at once surprised and 
delighted me. 

"Very well] How so] I thought, from what I heard, 
you were in much pain and weakness ?" said I. 

20* 



234 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



" Yes, sir, that is true ; but I am very well for all that. 
For God is so good to my soul ; and he provides every 
thing needful for my body. The people in the house are 
very kind ; and friends come to see me, and talk and pray 
with me. Sir, I want nothing, but more grace, to praise 
the Lord for all his goodness." 

" Why, my friend, you are an old pilgrim, and I am glad 
to see that you have learned thankfulness, as you travel 
through the wilderness." 

"Thankfulness!" quickly returned he; "No, sir; I 
never did thank the Lord, I never could thank him ; no, 
nor I never shall thank him, as I ought, till I get to glory. 
And then — O ! then — how I will thank him for what he 
has done for me !" Tears of affection filled his eyes, as he 
spoke. 

"What a good Master you serve I" I added. 

" Ay, sir, if the servant was but as good as the Master. 
But here I am, a poor old sinner, deserving nothing, and 
receiving every thing which I need. Sir, I want nothing, 
but more grace to serve him better. I lie here on this 
bed, and pray and sing by night and day. Sir, you must 
let me sing you my hymn : I always begin it about four 
o'clock in the morning, and it keeps my spirits alive all 
the day through." 

Without waiting for my reply* he raised himself up, and 
in an aged and broken, but very affecting tone of voice, he 
sang two or three verses, expressive of God's goodness to 
him, and his own desire to live to God's glory. The sim- 
plicity, serenity, and heartfelt consolation, with which this 
venerable disciple went through it, gave a coloring to the 
whole, and left an impression on my mind, which it would 
be impossible to convey to the reader. 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



235 



As soon as he had finished his hymn, he said, " Do not 
be offended, sir, at my boldness : you love the Lord, too, 
I hope ; and then I am sure you won't be angry to hear 
me praise him. — But now, sir, talk to me about Jesus 
Christ. You are his minister, and he has sent you here 
to-day to see a poor unworthy soul, that does not deserve 
the least of his mercies. 44 Talk to me, sir, if you please, 
about Jesus Christ." 

" Neither you nor I are able to t alk of him as we ought," 
I answered : " and yet, if we were to hold our peace, the 
very stones would cry out." 

" Ay, and well they might, sir, cry shame, shame upon 
us, if we refused to speak of his goodness," said the old 
man. 

"Jesus Christ," I continued, "is a sure refuge, and a 
present help in time of trouble." 
" That's right, sir ; so he is." 

"Jesus Christ has taken care of you, and watched over 
you all the days of your life ; and he will be your guide 
and portion in death." 

" That's right again, sir ; so he will." 

" You have committed your soul into his keeping long 
since, have you not ]" 

" Above forty years ago, sir ; above forty years ago, 
(when I first used to hear good Mr. Venn and Mr. Ber- 
ridge,) he came to seek and to save me, a vile sinner, who 
deserved nothing but his wrath. I can never praise him 
enough." 

" Well, ray friend, and this very Saviour Jesus Christ, 
whom you love, and in whom you trust, lived for you, and 
died for you ; he rose again for you, and has sanctified you 
by his Holy Spirit, and now lives to make daily interces- 



236 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



sion for you ; and having done all this, do you think he 
will leave you to perish at last V 9 

" No, sir," said the old man : "faithful is he that hath 
promised, and will do it. Mine, alack, is a changing 
heart ; but he changeth not. I believe that he hath laid 
up a crown of glory for me ; and though the old enemy of 
souls sometimes tells me I shan't have it, I believe in 
Christ sooner than in him, and I trust I shall have it 
at last." 

" And do you not find by experience," I added, "that his 
yoke is easy, and his burden light? His commandments 
are not grievous, are they?" 

" No, sir, no : it is a man's meat and drink, if he loves 
the Lord, to do what he bids him." 

" Where were you, before you came into this infirmary]" 

" In the parish workhouse of S — ." 

" Have you a wife ?" 

" She died some years since, and got to her heavenly 
home before me." 

" Have you any children 1 ?" 

" Yes, sir, I have two sons married, and settled in the 
world with families. One of them has been here to see 
me lately, and I hope he is in a good way for his own soul, 
and brings up his children in the fear of God." 

"Have you any worldly cares upon your mind?" 

" Not one, sir. I am come to this house, I plainly see, 
to end my days ; for this mortification in my leg must, be- 
fore it be very long, bring me to the grave. And I am 
quite willing, sir, to go or to wait the Lord's own time. 
I want nothing, sir, but more grace to praise him." Which 
last words he often repeated in the course of the conver- 
sation 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



237 



" You have reason,'' I said, "to feel thankful that there 
is such a house as this, for poor and sick people to be 
brought to, for both food, lodging, and medicine." 

" That I have, indeed, sir ; it is a house of mercies to 
me, and I am ashamed to hear how unthankful many of the 
patients seem to be for the benefits which the Lord pro- 
vides for them here. But, poor creatures, they neither 
know nor love him. The Lord have mercy upon them ; 
and show them the right way. I should never have known 
that good way, sir, if he had not taken compassion upon 
me, when I had none upon myself." 

Tears ran down his aged cheeks as he spoke these last 
words. — "Here," thought I, "is a poor man that is very 
rich, and a weak man that is very strong." 

At this moment the nurse brought in his dinner. 

" There, sir, you see, more and more mercies ! The 
Lord takes care of me, and sends me plenty of food for this 
poor old worn-out body." 

"And yet," said I, "that poor old worn-out body will 
one day be renewed and become a glorified body, and 
live along with your soul in the presence of God for 
ever." 

" That's right, sir," said the good old man, " so it will : 
' though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my 
flesh shall I see God.' But come, sir," seeing me look at 
my watch, " you must speak a word to your Master, if you 
please, as well as for him. I will put down my dinner, 
while you pray with me." 

I did so, the man often adding his confirmation of what 
I offered up, by voice, gesture, and countenance, in a man- 
ner highly expressive of the agreement of his heart with 
the language of the prayer. 



238 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY. 



Having ended, he said, " God be with you, sir, and bless 
your labors to many poor souls : I hope you will come to 
see me again, if my life be spared. I am so glad to see 
those who will talk to me about Jesus Christ, and his 
precious salvation." 

I replied, " May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
who carried them through the days of their pilgrimage, 
and brought them safe to a city, which hath foundations, 
bring you there too, and bless you all the remaining days 
of your journey till you get home. I am going to see 
several serious friends this evening, who would be glad, I 
know, to receive a message from one who has had so much 
experience of a Saviour's mercies. What shall I say to 
them!" 

" Tell them, sir, with my Christian love and respects, 
that you have been to see a poor dying old man, who wants 
nothing at all, in this world, but more grace to praise the 
Lord with." 

So ended our first interview. I could not help reflect- 
ing, as I returned homeward, that as the object of my 
journey to the infirmary had been to carry instruction and 
consolation myself to the poor and the sick ; so the poor 
and the sick were made instrumental to the conveying of 
both instruction and consolation to my own heart in a very 
superior degree. 

I saw him four or five times afterward, and always found 
him in the same happy, patient, thankful, and edifying 
state of mind and conversation. The last time I was with 
him, he said : " Sir, I long to be at my heavenly home, 
but I am willing to remain a traveller, as long as my Lord 
and Master sees good." 



VISIT TO THE INFIRMARY* 



239 



He died* not long after my last sight of him, in the 
steadfast assurance of faith, and with a full hope of im- 
mortality." 

* The foregoing conversation took place on September 22, 1S05, and is faith- 
fully related. 

J. S., the good old man who died in the infirmary, in December, 1803. 



THE END. 



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